


Axis Mundi and the Personal Heaven from Hell

by ashes0909



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Post Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone up there is dishing out prophecies about the 'Angels of the Winchester Gospel' but Dean's not sure he has time for it. His brother is ill, his friend is missing, and he never trusted the tricky bastards to begin with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stasis

**Author's Note:**

> This idea nagged me into existence. It's my first fic in the Supernatural fandom...so be kind. :P 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

They assumed Charlie would be the one to find him.

“Just call her.”  Sam wheezed, his voice raw from yet another coughing fit.           

Dean propped his legs up as he mulled his way through a sandwich he barely remembered throwing together.  He sighed and pinched his forehead before dropping his eyes from the blurred pages of the book to the too-pale face of his brother. Sam's flop of hair peeking out from behind the couch they had moved into the library to allow Sam more comfort as he researched. 

Because he refused to stop fucking researching. 

Despite the hour long coughing fits and exhaustion spurred from a marathon of walking across the hall to the bathroom, his stubborn brother refused to stop. Refused to let someone else find his cure or figure out if there was another way to close the Gate of Hell or solve the freaking mystery of why all the Angel’s fell.  It pissed him off.  But he was going to make sure his brother got required rest if he had to stand guard all day.

Dean sighed.  “What the hell are you rasping about?”

Sam rolled his eyes and handed over his phone.

Dean looked at the phone in his brother’s outstretched hand skeptically.  “Why do I want your lame Blackberry?

“Charlie.”

“Huh?”

He shook the phone impatiently. “If I have to hear you ‘sigh’ one more time I’m going to pull out my hair.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and cracked a smile, because if that was Sam’s best threat, the kid was getting soft.  But then the thought quickly followed that maybe Sammy was just that tired and his eyebrows fell. Sam just grunted in response and tossed the phone to Dean before flopping back on to the couch.

It was only because of Dean’s honed reflexes that the overpriced smartphone wasn't in pieces on the Bunker’s marbled floors.  He looked at it in his palm, confused.  What sort of answers did Sam expect 4g to provide? His answer came from behind the back of the couch.

“If anyone can find him, it won’t be that book.  It will be Charlie.”

Oh.

Castiel’s name had been a gaping hole in the middle of each conversation, unmentioned since Dean had clutched to an injured Sam and cried his prayers for the angel.

Scrutinizing the tiny keyboard, Dean thought aimlessly that the buttons were always too damn small for anyone with decent sized fingers. 

“We don’t even know if there is anything to find.” His voice barely registered across the marbled library but it still tightened an already clenched band of unease around them both.

The leather of the couch creaked under Sam’s frame as he shifted. “You think they’re all dead?”

Dean choked. “Well we haven’t seen a large horde of helpless angels walking around.”

 “I don’t think they are going to be broadcasting it on the nightly news like that.”  Sam faltered and joke fell flat between them.  

This is why Dean poured over the books this last week, hoping that each turn of the freaking page would explain something like this had happened before; reveal some piece of useful information for once.  The pages had to give answers because there was some way for them to undo Castiel and Metatron’s stupid plan, some way to fix this colossally huge mistake.

One day soon, Castiel was going to flutter in here, scaring the shit out of them, needing to reverse this.  Dean would have a plan.

He tried not to picture the familiar trench coat in flames as it broke through the atmosphere.  He tried to push away the image of those large black wings burning.  He wondered if Castiel was trapped in Heaven, once again kicking himself in grief over the failure and his misplaced trust.  Better trapped in heaven than –

The scraping of his chair as the legs fell against the marble floor echoed across the library but Sam didn’t stop him as he walked out the door, phone in hand.

~~

Two days later, Charlie was standing at their front door, arms overflowing with computer equipment.

“Thought you were going to manage this from wherever you were hauled up.”  Dean grunted.

“Hello to you too.”  She shoved a modem into his arms and walked through the door.  “Frankly, you sounded miserable, and I figured my bright and shiny presence might do wonders for morale levels around here.”

She smiled wide, refusing to hear any argument and whisked by him, pulling her long red hair into a ponytail.  Perched on the wall Dean watched the ‘little sister he never wanted’ get to work.

She dragged a table next to the outlet on the wall.  Turning to the box of supplies that had recently filled her arms, Dean was impressed at how she carefully handled the two computer monitors, arranging the three hard drives easily.  Within minutes, Charlie stepped back and paused to survey the new workshop. 

Nodding in approval, she rounding back to Dean and snatched the modem from his hands.  “Done.  Plus, I failed one to many times in impersonating law enforcement from my apartment.”

Dean chuckled.  “So you need a safe house?”

Charlie bit her lip and put on puppy eyes that rivaled Sammy. “….and you need a search party?”

Dead straightening from the wall and took a deep breath, running his unusually sweaty palms along his blue jeans.  “Look, it’s not like you’re not welcome here, because you most definitely are-.”

She flushed and crossed her arms over her chest, “Not really sounding like it, Deano.”

Dean sighed.  “No, you are.”  

Charlie took a deep breath.  “I know we need to find Cas.”  She hesitated. “I know with him gone…”

Dean cleared his throat. Yes, it was Cas but Charlie had to realize that it wasn’t _just_ Cas.  “Look, Sam’s sick with some unknown failed-trial voodoo cold and the King of Hell is in the dungeon.” He forced out quickly.

 Dean watched the alarm flash across the geek-turned-Hunter’s eyes and felt slightly proud at how quickly she recovered.  She looked around the room and turned back to him with a smile. “So, this safe house?  Not quite the safest of houses.  Good thing I’ve honed my shot.”

The sound of socked feet dragging across the marble caused both of them to look up.

“Is that Charlie?”  Sam walked slowly down the hall from his bedroom.

“The one and only.”  Charlie walked over to pull the tall man into a hug. Pulling back, Dean watched her take in his balmy face and slyly shift their position to take on more of his weight in their hug. 

“How’s it going?”

“You know, Sam,” Dean interrupted, “he’s tough.  Just got a bit of the demon-flu.”

Sam cracked a small smile and straightened out from the hug, stubbornly supporting himself in the perilous act of standing. “Much better than demon detox.”

Dean laughed.  “Yea, I’d say,” turning to Sam he added, “looks like we have another houseguest.”

Charlie patted Sam on the back with a beaming smile.  “While I’m sure the dungeon is just dandy, this guest would prefer a room.”

\---

With Charlie there, the days sped by.  One more day without a cure for Sam, one more day with Cas missing and no idea what to do with the fucking King of Hell, currently going through a moral mid-life crisis in their dungeon.

Sometimes Dean would wander into the front room, look over all of Charlie’s equipment – numbers on a screen that sent signals across the planet.  Charlie left it running automatically, opting to play video games on the other monitor.

“Nothing new.”  She always said whenever she spotted him.  She would offer a controller to him instead, a silent invitation to join in whatever game she was playing.

He tried to play once or twice, he had always enjoyed video games when him and Sam would spend time in the arcade, throwing away the little money they had on the games.  Charlie had some classics, Super Nintendo Mario Bros., Goldeneye.  But the numbers on the screen always caught his eye and he was forced to watch, waiting for it to make some noise of recognition. 

So Dean showed up in the front room less and less, opting instead to pour through every book in the library with Sam, looking for any clues from the minds of the Men of Letters.

Other times – though not too often for Sam to catch on – when the lines of all the books blurred and Dean felt like a trapped tiger, Dean would wander through the Bunker and end up in the dungeon.

When they had first arrived after the Fall, Dean remembered just trying to keep it together and not feel too horrible when he had to leave an unconscious Sam in the car as he dragged a rambling mad Crowley from the Impala.  It was still dark, and the angels had mostly Fallen but every once and a while a stark fireball would slash through the night sky, illuminating the path to the Bunker.

Crowley was mad, bat-shit crazy and mumbling about forgiveness. Listing names.

“Think you could help, like, at all here Crowley?”  Dean had grunted, grasping under the man’s under arms, his legs dragging in dirt all along the front room of the Bunker.

“There is no hope for me Dean.”

“Shut the fuck up, Crowley.”

The dungeon was the only solution until they had time to determine if this new guilt-ridden man had replaced the asshole they had come to hate.

Walking into the dungeon now, he was surprised to see Sam there, standing in the center of the Devil’s trap food tray in hand.

 “You’ve been feeding him.” It wasn’t a question and Dean realized he wasn’t even surprised.

Sam’s surprised face made Dean wonder how one man could still seem so outraged after everything he’d seen and done.  “Of course I’ve been feeding him.”

Dean repressed yet another sigh.  The large amount of sighing he was doing lately was starting to annoy even him.

Dean gestured to the unconscious demon in front of them.  “He say anything to you?”

“About the Fall? Nah.  I’m not even sure he knows.”

“What about you?”

Dean shook his head.

“Moose?”

“Yea Crowley, it’s me. Me and Dean.”

“Ah, time for the fun torture sessions to begin then.  I knew I was getting too much screen time with good cop.”

“Shut up Crowley.”  Sam crouched down and unlatched one of his wrists.

“Sam!”

“Relax. He can’t eat with two wrists tied up.”

Dean bristled, watching carefully as the demon flexed his hand too near to his weak brother’s throat.

“Not many violent urges to lunge at him these days, anyway.”  Crowley stated matter-of-factly as he pulled the fork from the tray and began devouring the food in front of him.  Maybe he had been lax in feeding their royal prisoner.

“So you’re useless _and_ depleting supplies.  Great.”

There was a loud bang from above them.  Dean looked over to Sam as Charlie screamed, “Dean!  Get up here, some kid broke in.”

They were both running down the hallway of the dungeon towards the stairs when a flushed and determined Kevin Tran raced through the doorway. 

He stopped abruptly and looked at the brothers, eyes on fire and breathless.  “He’s here.  You brought him here and didn’t even tell me.”  Then he was running past them, knocking Sam into Dean and heading towards the cell they had just abandoned.

Dean stared at Sam for a split second, stunned but recovered first, brought back to attention by the sounds of Crowley screaming.

“You!”  The sizzling sounds of holy water against skin filtered into the hallway, “You killed my mother.”

More screaming greeted Dean as he turned into the dungeon.  Sam pulled up next to him. “Kevin, stop.”

The boy turned on them, anger tearing across his face. “’You guys kept him here.  Alive!”  His scream cracked along the walls and Dean flinched and repressed another sigh.

“We don’t even know if he really killed your mom, Kevin.”  Sam soothed.

“No. No, I did.”

The whispered interruption silenced the room and then Kevin was lunging, hands outstretched and aimed for Crowley’s neck.  Dean grabbed the boy, pulling his arms behind his back trying to shake the anger out of him, knowing it was in vain. 

He had put a bullet into the head of the demon that killed his mother. He knew the feeling of being so close to the creature that tore apart your life, vengeance coursing through you, and wanting to be the one that ended all that evil.

The minutes ticked by.  Crowley’s revelation reminded the brothers that their somewhat domesticated stray dog was the former King of the Crossroads, the current King of Hell.  He was the monster that targeted them all, snapped his fingers and killed a friend, tortured the people they had worked so hard to save.

“You can’t kill him.” Sam whispered and Kevin reddened, a sneer on his face he opened his mouth prepared to fight.

“Yet.” Dean added.

Sam looked up sharply but Dean just shrugged. 

“Why the hell not?” Kevin spat, freeing himself from Dean’s hold. “Cause of who he is, right? Too big of a chess piece to go down yet. Am I right?”

“We don’t know what he knows yet.” Sam reasoned.

“If he even knows anything. All he does is ramble apologies all day, not very useful.” Dean countered. This wasn’t the first time they had this argument.

Sam turned to Kevin quickly, his eyes illuminating in a way Dean always categorized as “light bulb”.  “How did you even know he was here?”

Kevin’s eyes dropped to the floor and Dean wondered if he thought analyzing the Devil’s Trap would make him look any less suspicious.

“You had another vision?” Sam guessed.

Kevin glared at Sam for a moment before letting go of a small nod.

“What does that mean?” Dean asked, hopeful for the first time in weeks.  “Is there someone who hasn’t been knocked off Heaven’s guest list?”

 “That’s not all.” Kevin interrupted, turning towards him.

Dean’s breath caught and for some reason he just knew what Kevin’s words would be.  A clench in his core surrounded a violent surge of hope.  He had to take a steady breath to calm himself, repressed grief hesitantly ebbing away.

“You can tell your girl up there to stop her search.” Kevin uttered sarcastically, still angry at Crowley’s living-state, “I know where Cas is.”


	2. Light Wanderer

He dug his hand into the dirt, allowing it to crumble over his fingers and palm before securing the seedling deep into the soil.  Wiping the sweat off his brow, he lent back on his heels to survey his row of vegetables.  Each neatly placed along the row, little bumps of Earth.

Castiel turned his head into the waning summer sun, allowing the small pleasure of its warmth to run down his face.  New to sensations, he found each one bittersweet – from the cool soil rolling down his hands to the accompanying warmth of the 4.6 billion year-old plasma star.

Once he could look towards the sun and see the flares of its finite dance in the center of the solar system.  Now, he basks in its heat.  He was unable to determine which was a greater blessing. But it was a useless question he stopped trying to answer weeks ago.

Today marked a full month in his human state.

He wondered if Dean would have brought him pie to mark the occasion.  But then remembered the Hunter's cold glance and tense words after the Angel tablet and he turned cold despite the warmth.

The Winchesters. They had not spoken since before the Fall.  Since he followed Metatron blindly and against Dean’s wishes.  He still ached at the sight of it, the image that would flash across his memory at unbidden times – the image of his brothers and sisters, Falling. 

He caused that.  Fallen for a trick and forced to watch them Fall. Watch, useless.  

That was what he was now, useless.  He was human and he could no longer assist in a fight, no longer heal when a fight turned sour. He could breath, eat and relieve himself, like any other human and he could grow sustenance out of the Earth.

The Winchesters were in no need of a farmer.

He had stumbled on the Colorado Co-Op shortly after – “After” and “Before”, now notches in the timeline of his existence – he watched the terrible Fall of every angel with his now limited sight.  He would have prayed but only Metatron was left to hear it, so instead he absorbed their fiery image, acknowledging each loss.

The first day passed in mourning.  Then, he had picked a direction and placed one weighted foot in front of another.  The numerous hazards awaiting him in the Colorado wilderness had not fazed the new human, too numb even to consider it. In retrospect, he knew he was lucky that he stumbled on a road before the sun fell on that second day.

He had nothing to do but follow the road.  A small paved lane that led to the even smaller town of Gardner.  He was not penniless, a handful of bills remained in his trench coat from his endeavor to gain Dean’s forgiveness through pie.

His small road eventually reached an intersection.  A nondescript motel and diner greeted him at the end of his path and Castiel had been with humans long enough to appreciate Fate’s mockery.

The bell rung against the door when he shuffled into the diner.

“Take any seat you want, hun.”  A friendly voice had greeted him from behind the bar but he could not see a soul behind the stoves.  “I’ll be with you just a second.”

Castiel chose to sit at the bar and slid into the seat next to a pitcher of water and some spare cups for patrons.  His mouth dried instantly and an intense thirst washed over him.  For the first time since Famine, Castiel was not in charge of his body’s need.  He picked up the pitcher and drank, deeply.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.”  The voice from earlier was grabbing Castiel’s pitcher and caused him to snap back into his stool.  He remembered that first overwhelming feeling of his own rushing breath.

“I am very thirsty.  Thank you.”

“I can see that, and the names Ms. Pattie” The older woman squinted at him from behind the counter, “Look, son can you afford to buy anything or are you just going to enjoy all of my water?”

“I have money.”  He assured, proudly and Castiel had pulled the crumbled bills on the table, straightened out their wrinkles.  “I would like a cheeseburger.”

Ms. Pattie had just laughed and left the money on the counter.  “Sure thing, hun. Coming right up.”

After wolfing down the burger, Castiel stood and looked out the window. He must have looked as lost as he felt because from behind him Ms. Pattie offered,  “If you’re looking for somewhere to stay for a while, maybe a few more meals, I’d suggest Huajatollas Co-op a half a mile up.  They’re always looking for extra hands.”

Castiel had nodded, not knowing what a ‘co-op’ was or how extra hands would result in a bed. Fatigue alone led him to the driveway of the small farm.

Neat, good with his hands, and kept to himself. The residents of the co-op came from many walks of life, but they appreciated those three skills – Castiel fit right in.

“Castiel!”  Glenn’s voice bellowed across the farm.  “Come to the main house for a sec, you got some guests.”

Stirring him from his meditations in the summer rays, it was not until he was walking the path to the main house that he absorbed Glenn’s words.

Guests.

He walked to the large barn door, its red and white checkers the only thing that remained from the original structure. When Castiel had first arrived, he had journeyed up the path to see over a dozen residents with tools, paint, wood, transforming the barn to add extra rooms to the ever-growing co-op.

A brute voice had called from the top of a ladder.  “Hey Trench Coat!”

Castiel had to tilt his head, amazed by the synchronization before him, the large man coming down the ladder and another taking his place immediately.  The man continued towards him, stirring up dust from the rocky entryway.

This large man bounded straight for him and Castiel had stepped back with a quick panic.  “Ms. Pattie referred me to this location.” He said quickly.

“It’s okay, dude.” Smiling, he offered his hand, “the names Glenn. I run this co-op.”

“You sometimes run things!”  The voice of a bushy haired woman corrected from the front stoop.

Rolling his eyes and chuckling, Glenn had turned back to him with a smile, “We can use an extra hand.  Are you good with your hands?”

Castiel had looked down at his palms and was reminded of their former power – smiting demons, wielding a sword.  “No.”

Glenn assured him that having little experience was fine before looking behind Castiel questioningly.  “You have any more stuff with you?”

He shook his head.

“Well, another light Wanderer.” He had joked but Castiel just squinted at him, confused.  He was a soldier, an Angel of the Lord, not a Wanderer.  But he supposed, walking aimlessly down a mountain ridge, that the title suited him now.

“You know what a co-op is…right?”  Glenn asked tentatively.

Meeting the taller man’s gaze, Castiel nodded slowly.

Glenn shocked Castiel by laughing and grabbing his shoulder, pushing him through the barn doorway into the new residence area.

“Hey it’s okay,” Despite Glenn’s intimidating stature, he had a comforting smile as he discussed Castiel’s new surroundings.  “If Ms. Pattie sent you, I’m sure she knew you’d be good here.  We live and work, come and go.  We have an empty room on the second floor, number three.  I have to get back out there or else Genie will come in here and yell about me pulling my weight.  There’s a phone over there, no Wi-Fi unfortunately, but if you need to make a call go for it.  Just put in an extra fifteen minutes of work if you dial long-distance.”

Despite his new human state, he had Dean’s phone number seared into his mind and he had stared at the phone long after Glenn left. 

What could he say to Dean?  Dean, who begged him not to trust Metatron.  There was nothing left he could offer them, he had no wisdom, no strength.  Another human with human needs and he was not their responsibility. 

He had done this.  He trusted Metatron like he used Crowley.  He had been the Winchester’s friend, a place of honor, and like always he did it all to protect them; but like always, it turned sour. Another deal with the devil. 

He turned from the phone, the human perspective may be limited but he knew with a fierce certainty that there was nothing left to fix.

Now the farmhouse was, if not home, a room he called his own and he was walking through the back door of the barn, expecting to see them standing in front of the bay of phones. 

The room was empty.

A wave a disappointed crashed through him, but tense shoulders were the only thing that would have given him away if someone had walked down the stairs or through the door.

A soft cough from behind him, a sound he knew well.

“Cas.”

He turned and the air suddenly rushed out of the room, the walls he helped build caved in and there was Dean Winchester standing behind him.

Eyes tense and shoulders back, arms clasped behind him, scrutinizing.  Castiel’s human body shifted under the hard gaze. He wanted to do something, to reach out, but he was frozen because Dean was here in Colorado at his co-op and he was worried that the world was once again ending.  Or maybe it was already over.

“What are you doing here, man?”  The words sounded friendly but the clench in Dean’s jaw betrayed his anger. “And if you say planting freaking carrots, by help me…”

Castiel knew that Dean did not want his apology, Dean did not want his excuses. But he had nothing else to give so he stood there, silent.

Dean sighed, his tense shoulders deflating and Castiel watched as the frustration eased out of him.

“Become mute during the Fall?” The words croaked out, as if he could barely get the joke passed his lips.

Castiel looked away. “I did not Fall.”

Dean eyes flicked up to him and Castiel still refused to meet them, “You’re still juiced up?”

He tenses at the words, silent.

“Oh.”

The question laid in the air between them, and it was Castiel’s turn to sigh. “Metatron tricked me. You were right.” He paused, unsure if Dean would gloat or yell or throw a fist but the man just stood there, silent, waiting for him to finish. “We – I – closed the Gate of Heaven but…there was another part to the plan.”

“Yea, we’re up to speed on that.” Dean managed, “but how did you escape it?”

The memory rushed painfully through him, “He took it. My Grace.  Slit my throat and put it in a vial.”

“Shit.” 

“Made me human.”  Castiel continued, brushing past Dean’s interruption.  It was an effort to pull his eyes back to his former charge and tried not to think about how many times he uttered these words to this man.  “You were right.  I did not fix anything.”

“No you didn’t.”  Castiel winced at the brisk words.  “Is that why you hauled yourself up in Farmville?  Is that why you didn’t even think to contact us?”  Dean was yelling now and each of the words was a penance for his wrongs.  He failed to realize that Dean was waiting for an answer to his questions until the man snapped in front of Castiel’s face and demanded one.  “Well?”

“I have nothing to offer but apologies, Dean and as you’ve said, that will not ‘cut it’ this time.”

Dean stared at him in disbelief, “We thought you were dead, Man!”

Castiel shuffled his feet, “I will be one day - ”

“Oh can it, Cas.”  Dean interrupted with a spat.  “You’re doe-eyed act won’t work on me. I’ve seen it enough.  You were scared and selfish so you hid away in this hippie town growing fucking plants while we worried.  I worried,” he stressed and for a moment Castiel was back in the cave, remembering Dean’s broken face.  

“We didn’t know if you fell to the ground in flames and you couldn’t even pick up the freaking phone – “

“And say what, Dean?” Castiel yelled for the first time as a human and it caused his skin to flush with anger. He took a deep breath, calming himself as well as bracing himself to meet Dean’s eye.  “That Angel you knew is gone, Dean.”

An ugly laugh erupted from Dean and he brought his hands to his hips, “You and I both know that ‘Angel’ has been gone for years, don’t give me that shit.  Just tell me the fucking truth for once.”

A beat of silence and their gaze met.  “When I was capable, my help repetitively caused more harm than I could hardly imagine and I have witnessed centuries of travesty.  I break everything I touch, Dean.” He ended with a whisper.  Knowing the words rang true, seeing every good-willed attempt burn to dust before him.  The taste of souls on his mouth, the sizzling sounds of his brethren Falling, a room full of bloodied Deans.  Castiel looked at his hand, the tools of God once connected to the holy Host of his light.  They tore a hole through every plain of His creation. 

“You fixed me.”  Dean whispered.

A breath caught in Castiel’s throat because he had no response to that unchanging fact.

Dean approached him.  “We’ll fix this.” 

Castiel wondered if that was why Dean was here, to get his soldier back, if that was all that mattered.  He responded with his own ugly snort.

“How do you think we found you man?”  The whispered words reached Castiel’s ears and he shrugged, he had been wondering. 

“Someone up there is dishing out prophecies –”

Looking up sharply, “Wha –”

“And it ain’t Metatron because I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want us to know what Kevin’s been filling us in on during the seven hour drive here.”


	3. Angels of the Winchester Gospel

His gargantuan brother strode through the doorway, Kevin and Charlie in tow as if they were standing outside listening like schoolgirls.  They probably were.  The kid left his sunglasses on even indoors, grumbling about the visions causing headaches as he sat down at the circular wooden table at the far end of the room.  Charlie manned a spot unobtrusively by the door and Dean nodded at her, appreciating her foresight to stand guard.  She had come a long way since the Leviathans. 

Sam strode purposely towards the table and dropped his laptop down carefully, but it caused Kevin to wince anyway. “Good to see you, Cas.”

Dean watched Castiel survey his brother, taking in his pale face.  He fidgeted with his hands, obviously uncomfortable with the party cluttering his new...whatever this place was. Cas looked out of place in a way he never had before, even after taking on Sam’s memories from hell.  He looked at the group and up towards Dean, before realizing that they were staring at him, waiting for a reply.  Dean watched as he took a small shaky breath.  

“Good to see you too," he mumbled.  "You are still ill.”

“Yea, can’t seem to shake it.”  Sam laughed then groaned as he folded his large body to sit in the small wooden chair.

“We’re working on it.”  Dean said with a gruff.  He walked them towards the others, taking in the barn Castiel was living in.  It almost seemed like any other motel except it was entirely made out of wood, even all the furniture.  There was an empty front desk in the middle of the room, two stairwells on each side leading to many doors, probably holding many strangers. 

Dean wanted to ignore the small pieces of familiarity, the few photographs of the group that stood out.  He spotted one with a familiar figure off to the side, standing in front of the barn with a paintbrush in his hand.  His Trench Coat long forgotten and his arms shined with sweat from under a T-Shirt.  Dean idly wondered if someone had taken him to one of the stores they passed along the road to purchase it or if he had borrowed it from someone. 

“You are ill as well, Prophet.”  Castiel’s stated as he joined the others, pulling Dean from his unsettling thoughts. “Yea, yea.  We’re all injured and ill and missing mighty powers.” 

Sam looked up, bitch face in place but Dean just rolled his eyes, shrugging.  “No point in ignoring the fact that we’re not working under optimal conditions.”

“Hey, I’m doing dandy.”  Charlie piqued.

Castiel eyes never left Kevin during the other’s exchange.  After a long moment, Kevin shifted and he spat angrily.  “What it is Angel?”  Dean remembered their last encounter, Kevin slammed against a wall.

“What was your vision?”  Castiel asked calmly, unnerved by the outburst.

Kevin shifted, fiddling with the edge of his sunglasses.  “How did you...There were a few.”

“Of me?”  

Kevin shook his head, “Only one of each of you.”

“Of who?”  Castiel prompted, trying to meet Kevin’s eye before turning towards Dean questioningly.  “I know this has been discussed amongst you.  Why won’t you tell me?”  Castiel’s anger and confusion causing the words to stiffen formally. 

Dean felt the rest of the eyes in the room turn to him and he took a steadying breath, wondering what the news would do to the crippling new human. 

“They were called the Angels of the Winchester Gospel.”  Kevin murmured, lowering the rims of the sunglasses with a small wince.  “Anna, Gabriel, Balthazar…”

Dean watched Castiel absorb the information.  Jaw opening slightly, eyes widening and he glanced over to Dean asking for confirmation.  He wasn’t surprised that the former Angel was having a hard time adjusting.  The news had shocked Dean as well, when they finally pulled Kevin from Crowley. 

Dean entered interrogation mode quickly after he had tossed Kevin onto the couch in the library. 

“What about Cas?  What did you see?”

Sam’s shuffling joined them and Kevin began telling of his dreams, the same dreams he had been having on and off for a week.  They hit in the middle of the day, he’d be doing something mundane like buying food from the store on the corner, and suddenly he’d slump against a wall and dream.  Short foggy dreams, fragmented faces he had never seen before – a field of crops, a stage.

It took a few days for Kevin to realize they were visions.  They were different from the sensation of translating the tablets but similar in the aftershock, so when he saw Castiel in front of a sign for the co-op, he knew his visions were fact.

“How do you know this is not a trick of Metatron?”  Castiel demanded.

Kevin let out an exasperated breath and leaned forward, thumping his forehead on the wood table. 

“Because Kevin said he saw a long path,” Sam explained.  “It didn’t look like the two-lane street we had up there, but we think it may be the Axis Mundi.”

“And we don’t think that douchey Benedict Arnold would want to give us a one-way viewing guide into Heaven right now.” Dean added.

Cas tilted his head.  When he was an Angel, Dean used to imagine all the thoughts that ran around in that head – both his own and from the humans he watched over - all the pieces trying to come together to solve the puzzle.  Now the head tilted in question, waiting for answers and edging with hope.  His eyes caught Dean’s.  “Where are the others?”

Dean smiled a small smile, and despite how pissed he was that he had to travel to this progressively backwards neck of America, he was happy that for once he wasn’t coming with news of the end of the world.  But before he could open his mouth the answer Charlie whooped loudly from her place by the door.  “We're going to be up five hundy by midnight!”

Dean looked at Sam in surprise and burst out a laugh, remembering the movie from nights in motel rooms, Dean trying to distract Sam from worrying about when Dad would return.  Kevin rolled his head on the table and shot Charlie a confused glance.  Castiel shifted again.

“Swingers?”  Sam managed through a laugh, “Really?”

Charlie beamed a wide, easy grin and nodded, “Vegas Baby!  Vegas!”

....

It was four hours later and the wheel felt firm under Dean’s hand.  Sam comfortably snored to his right and Kevin and Cas sat in the backseat of his Baby.  In the end they decided to send Charlie back to look over the incapacitated King, despite her disappointment of missing the chance to enthusiastically quote every movie that ever took place in Sin City.  Sam was too weak to look over Crowley if things turned sour, a fact that frustrated him enough to pout himself into a nap, and they needed Kevin in case he had anymore visions.  Charlie could handle herself.

The night was calm, they weren’t being chased, and the last he heard it wasn’t the end of the world – things should be okay.  His knuckles shouldn’t be white against the leather wheel, clenching every time blue eyes flickered in the corner of his rear-view mirror.  They were the only two awake and somewhere along that drive that meant white-knuckles.

He was still angry, though Sam would call it hurt, that asshole.  He had a _right_ to be angry.  He thought Cas was dead and Cas _knew_ it.  But what was truly causing the low burn in his gut, flowing through his veins and into the tips of his fingers tightening on the wheel, was the plain fact that Cas thought _he_ wouldn’t care.

It was like now that his powers were gone, Dean didn’t want him around.  Is that what Cas really thinks after Purgatory and everything with that stupid Angel tablet?  Well that was absolute, grade-A, one hundred percent horseshit.         He clenched his jaw and Dean wished for the days of Cas reading his mind because now all he was left with was bewildered glances through a mirror.

“Do you think I’ll be able to bring him along with you?”  Castiel asked, softly, mindful of the others sleeping.  “Is that why you’ve come and gathered me?”

“Between the former vessels of Lucifer and Michael and the _Prophet_ , I’m pretty sure one of us could’ve persuaded him.”  Dean paused, “Been a while since I thought of myself like that – the archangel’s condom.”

“You were Michael’s sword and true-vessel Dean, not his _condom_.” 

The word sounded strange from Castiel and Dean couldn’t help the twitch from the corner of his lips.  “I didn’t _come and gather_ you for any other reason than you belong with us not some granola crunching hippies at a farm in Colorado.  If you manage to help bring Gabriel along, that’s just a plus.”

Dean watched Cas, who fell silent and suddenly found his reflection on the window fascinating.

…      

Within hours the Impala was speeding passed the iconic “Welcome to Vegas!” sign, the early morning sunrise adding a reddish glow along the semi-quiet strip.  A few dazed gamblers stumbled out of a nearby casino looking confused at the idea of daylight.

Dean turned to take them off The Strip a few blocks to find a nearby hotel.  The four of them shuffled exhaustedly towards the front desk of the motel and Dean let Sam take the lead with the too-cheerful attendant ready to “make their stay just fab-u-lous”.

“We need, uh, rooms?”  He questioned as if he never checked into a motel before.

“How many, sir?” The woman squeaked through a smile.

“Uh two?”

“Three!”  Kevin piqued up, holding out a credit card which Dean saw was named Linda Tran.  “I need some peace and freaking quiet.”

They made a plan to meet after a few hours of needed sleep and split off with random keys.  When Castiel continued down the hallway with him, Sam and Kevin’s keys taking them down another hall, Dean was smugly satisfied. 

As much as he hated chick-flick moments, a conversation needed to happen between him and the former Angel.  Being stuck in a room for hours with Cas when he couldn’t just zap out of the room may be the trick.

But in the end they just ended up sleeping until Sam’s loud fist pounded on their door.  Dean turned on the light and was greeted by a scrunched eyed, bed head Castiel who rubbed his fist over his eyes and glared at the door.

“Your brother is very loud for a sick man.”

Dean chuckled and rose from the bed to open the door Cas was still staring at, victimized.  Kevin and Sam bounded into their motel room and Cas threw the blankets off from his legs and stomped to the bathroom – one slammed door away from being a petulant child. 

“It would appear that human Cas is not a morning person.”  The others didn’t seem to find the fact as amusing as Dean.  Their game faces already equipped, they waited for the former Angel as he busied himself in the bathroom.

Dean wondered what his new routine was, if he was used to brushing his teeth yet, if he liked to shower in the morning or at night.  He pictured Cas as he tried to master holding a slippery bar of soap, overcoming the challenging act of sliding it across his skin as the water streamed down his lean chest, if he would cuss if he dropped it.

He realized absentmindedly that he was picturing his friend in the shower, dropping the soap and all, and he was doing it with a pang of affection.  He wondered if maybe he needed more sleep, or to get laid.

The door opened and Cas emerged from the bathroom, face wet from the sink, eyes alert and awake.  He pinned his eyes on Kevin.  “So you think Gabriel may be in one of these casinos playing with bunnies and doves?”

Kevin frowned, exasperating at having to repeat this yet again.  “No.  I _know_ he is in the Bellagio acting as a magician.” 

“And no, Cas the vision didn’t tell us why Gabriel is alive, or if it is really him or just his vessel, or if he has any idea how open the Gates of Heaven.”  Sam informed in a brisk way that Dean thought was a little unfair.  Sure, Cas had been asking a lot of questions and withdrew frustrated or silent when Kevin provided minimum to zero answers, but that didn’t mean Sam needed to take it out on him.  The guy was just as lost, if not more, than anyone after this whole Gate closing catastrophe.

“Sam, come on.”

“Dean.”  Sam mocked, glancing over at Kevin.  “The kids completely exhausted.  He doesn’t need another round of 20 Unknown Questions.”

Castiel tensed and Dean threw a glare at his brother before walking over to the new human.  He placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  “C’mon, let’s go.  We’ll know more once we come face to face with the tricky bastard.”


	4. The Magician

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took some creative liberties with the mystery of what exactly happens when an angel dies. Yay open plot holes for us to dance in!

The man on the stage was undoubtedly not a vessel.  The curve of the smile and the flick of his wrist were enough for Castiel to see his brother’s personality shining through every inch of the human on stage. 

Gabriel was alive.   

They arrived early, sneaking in after Sam persuaded the nearby employee with a story about _needing_ to see inside the _beautiful_ theater before they left to catch a plane.  Dean was snickering behind a hand as Sam batted his eyes at the elder gentleman.  It worked.  Now that they were standing at the edge of the theater, Castiel could understand why a story about this work of art proved to be believable.  

The rotunda of deep blue stained glass that circled above the plush theater seats astounded and humbled him.  The concentric circles narrowed towards the center, which contained a spiral of glass that jutted out at them.  They all stood for a moment, silent and awed, looking up at the light reflecting off the glass.  A human created this.

“It almost looks like a gorgeous blue eye.”  Sam commented.

Dean nodded, head pointed back to take in the full size of the O theater. “Kinda like Cas’.”

Castiel looked towards Dean and preened at the offhand compliment.  “Thank you, Dean.”  He said, seriously.

Dean’s eyes dropped to Cas before flashing at the Sam and Kevin, who seemed to be suppressing gins, though Cas could not understand what about the statement was humorous.  “What?”  Dean asked them, sounding affronted.  “It’s a pretty blue!”

“Anyway,” Sam began, gesturing to the levitating man under the spotlight as Dean turned a funny shade of red.  “Cas, do you think that is him?  You know him the best.”

When he used to be in the presence of his brothers and sisters their Grace would reach out and, if allowed, the warmth would wrap around them.  They would speak or sit quietly amongst the comfort of the others spirit. 

Now when he saw his brother, he felt nothing but relief.  “That’s him.” 

He watched the Winchesters straighten simultaneously, immediately shifting into a guarded stance, years of Hunter training assessing a threat.

“He is human too.”

In a similar unison they sagged, threat level zero.

The magician on the stage did not have a clear vantage point of them, from where they were perched by the door by the orchestra entrance.  The low light over the audience leaving them obscured in darkness.  But from the center of the stage, Gabriel, the former archangel, started clapping.  The slow sound bounced off the amplified walls of the theater.

“Susan, doll,” Gabriel twirled his assistant in his arm, her flapper skirt flowing in the stage lights, “do you mind giving me a moment with my friends here before getting back to rehearsal?”

The woman left and Castiel followed the Winchesters and Prophet along the long aisle until they reached the edge of the orchestra pit that divided them from his brother.

“You seem to have accumulated more of an entourage since the last time I saw you, boys.  Though that one looks pretty scrawny for a Hunter.”

“Hey!”  The Prophet started affronted but Castiel cut him off.  “Hello brother.”

Gabriel turned to him.  “Castiel.”

“Gabriel.”

Dean rolled his eyes and grunted, “Sam.  Dean.  Kevin.  Tarzan.  Jane.  Now we all know each other can we please get to the more interesting questions?”

Castiel watched Gabriel dramatically peer behind him.  “Are we waiting for two more, then?”

“Oh for the love of –” Dean threw himself into the nearest seat, clearly having enough of his brother’s antics.  “Sam, would you please.  I forgot how difficult it was to deal with this one.”

Gabriel fluttered his eyes.  “Oh yes Sam, if you please.”  Then in a whirlwind, Gabriel shot Dean a look and dropped his easy jokester stance.  He straightened into the hardened figure that reminded them of the mighty force he used to be. 

Dean stood back up.

“You will remember that I was the only one to side with you in the end.”  He lifted his finger to his chin in fake consideration and turned to Castiel.  “Well not the only one.”

Gabriel caught his eye and before they would have spoken directly, wordlessly, through the glance.  Now, it was piercing and uninformative.  Castiel tensed under the brown eyes and Gabriel lifted his eyebrow, surprised.  Under the scrutiny, Castiel continued to shift.  He wondered if Gabriel knew _he_ was the reason they had returned to Earth from the place he existed before the Fall. 

A surge of hope, that maybe his brother would forgive him for removing him from his peace.  But he knew he did not deserve the forgiveness, even from someone with such a tawdry history as Gabriel, because in the end the archangel was good and triumphant, where Castiel was futile and broken.

 “I know we,” Sam stammered, interrupting the silence, “we never really got a chance to thank you, for telling us about the Four Horsemen or…”

“Getting yanked by ol’ Luci.”  Gabriel offered, throwing his head back with a laugh that startled the others.  “Yea, well.  It seems to have worked out for a bit there, at least.  World didn’t actually end and all?”

“We stopped it.”  Dean said firmly.  “Formed Lucifer’s cage with the rings.  It worked.”

Gabriel crossed his arms across his chest and smirked.  “Well then, it’s good to know I didn’t die in vain.”

 “But you didn’t.”  The Prophet interjected.  “Die.  You’re right here.”

“If you call this lousy existence living.”

“But you were.  Dead that is?”  Sam asked, curious.

Castiel looked around them, at the many seats and doorways.  “We shouldn’t have this conversation here.  Come with us.”

Gabriel lifted his hands, “Whoa there little bro.  You’re forgetting something.” 

Castiel stared, confused, wondering what on Earth was more important than the mystery of his revival, how it was linked into the Fall.  Gabriel clasped his hands together. 

“The show must go on.”

...

They sat in the visitor’s box, which Sam was especially happy with, since apparently their casual garments were not appropriate for a performance where an individual pretends to do magic on a Friday evening.  Castiel was thankful of the seats because their angle towards the stage provided a vantage point, which allowed him to see both his brother on stage and Dean sitting next to him. 

For an hour of obvious deception and misdirection by someone Dean used to hate, he enjoyed it immensely.  Every so often, he would turn to Castiel and mumble an offhanded remark about how ridiculous Gabriel looked in the sequenced outfits or how he was happy the guy had his ‘wings-clipped’ because at least he could only trick the people in a non-life-threatening way.  Dean blushed after the comment and mumbled a quick, “Sorry, Cas, I know being wingless must suck.  It’s just its _Gabriel_ , you know?  I know he did good in the end but damn was he a jackass.  He killed me like a thousand times.” 

Through it all Castiel reveled in the other man’s happiness, Dean’s glowing smile.  It warmed the pit in Castiel’s stomach that was overwrought with waves of regret and despair.  Dean’s happiness was all Castiel ever wanted, when you parsed away all the apocalyptic conflict.

When the show ended and the lights came up, they had to kick the Prophet awake.

Sam looked at him, scrutinizing.  “Vision?”

“Yea.  I,” the Prophet looked up the glass blue ceiling, “it was like it was sucking me into it, like a passageway.”

“The ceiling?”  Dean asked.

“Yea...”  He trailed off.

Castiel squinted at the Prophet.  “There is something more.”

“Well, it’s just.  I don’t know if it is anything, really.”

Dean snorted.  “Just spit it out.”

Castiel watched the boy flush, rubbing behind his neck and taking a deep breath.  “There’s this feeling I’ve been getting sometimes when I dream, I didn’t get it when I saw the vision you guys think is that path through heaven.”  He leaned his head back and continued with his eyes on the ceiling.  “I didn’t think it was a vision at first, because it’s usually just an image of something normal, you know?  A tunnel or a door, one time it was the Sistine Chapel.  But it always felt the same feeling, pulling me through like it was –was a compulsion or something.”

“And you just felt this?”  Castiel asks.

He nodded.  “It was the stain glass.  The center of it shot out, expanding like a tunnel of blue glass all around me.

Sam perked up.  “Did you see what’s on the other end of the tunnel?”

The Prophet shook his head.  “Once I realized that _feeling_ was constant, even if the images weren’t, I realized it was a vision – different ways to lead me to somewhere.”  He looked over at Castiel, curious.  “Do you know what it is?”

Castiel remembered there were many ways into heaven and many areas of heaven to enter.  The entrances bend into shapes, morph into desires and familiarities. 

The Winchesters looked at him, waiting for an answer.  “If the Prophet is sensing a portal or entryway, and that is what it sounds like, there are many places and planes it could lead too.  I imagine it would come down the designer of the visions.”

“We still have someone pulling the strings up there?”  Gabriel asked, as he walked into their opera box.

They froze, surprised by their newest addition, and looked to each other to decide how much to tell the Trickster turned Magician.

“Se-cre-tive.”  Gabriel drawled.  “You’re obviously here because prophet boy over there showed you I was alive, so that means someone’s up there with enough juice to send images into his head.”

“Or they are elsewhere.”  Castiel countered.  “They do not have to be in heaven just because they are sending the Prophet visions.”

“But they are visions of Heaven, right little bro?”

“Sometimes.”  The Prophet answered.  “Other times I see angels on earth, I saw Cas at the farm, you on stage.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows rose and he grinned at Castiel, “A farmer?  Really. Wouldn’t take you for the overalls type.”

Castiel looked back, blankly.  “I did not wear overalls.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes.  “Anyway, who else are you seeing?”

“Well, I saw you on stage and lately I’ve been seeing a woman.  She looks a bit like Charlie.”

“Who?”  Gabriel asked, looking towards the others.

“Another new member of the gang.”  Dean provided.

“We think its Anna.”  Sam piped in. “But Kevin hasn’t been able to pin point a location yet.”

“And now most of my visions are either of a road or pathway or of doors and archways.”

Gabriel perched on the back of the plush chair near Castiel and turned to him. “So ways to get into Heaven and the road through it?”

Castiel looked over his brother, once again taken aback by his very presence.  “Why are you here, Gabriel?  An Angel Blade from Lucifer himself –”

“I remember the events surrounding my death, little brother.”  Gabriel interrupted.

Castiel looked over his brother’s face, his familiar vessel.  “Where were you?”

Gabriel fell silent.  The calm that overwhelmed his usually vibrant brother caused Castiel to shift towards him.  Castiel wanted to reach out and comfort him, as Dean had done for him but he wondered what he could offer the archangel.  Gabriel, like himself, was powerless for the first time and, how does one offer comfort when the warmth of Grace is missing?

“I was there, in Heaven.”

Sam’s eyes lightened as they always did when he encountered new information.  “With the other Angels?”

Gabriel shook his head. “When an Angel dies a true death, their Grace melds into the Host.  We don’t maintain our full consciousness but we know we are part of God’s warmth and power.  We know we are connected to our brothers and sisters.”

Sam nodded, taking in the information but Castiel knew what it meant and the truth shot a cold stripe of fear down his spine.  The entire Host is gone.  It was his fault.  His knees buckled and he was grateful for the plush chair to catch his fall.

Gabriel patted his shoulder.  “Why so down? Now, for some reason, I’m alive when before I was a celestial melding of power.”

Castiel hunched over and looked at his hands in his lap.  The others remained silent, though he imagined Gabriel was looking at them for an answer.

“Oh come on!  What is it?”

Again, Castiel saw the burning wings of his brothers and sisters as they broke through the atmosphere.  He felt Dean sit next to him and his presence grounded him back to the present.

“Not right now, Gabriel.”  Dean said softly.  “Look, can you ditch this gig and come back to Headquarters with us?  We’re trying to fix this and the first thing we need is to gather everyone in Kevin’s visions.”

“I don’t know, Winchesters.”  Gabriel began, “I have a good thing here.  You know they actually _pay_ me to trick these people?”

Castiel watched Sam and Dean trade frustrated expressions and he stood to face the former archangel. 

“All of the angels have Fallen.”

The room stilled.  Gabriel let out a disbelieving snort. 

“There is a reason you are here and no longer in heaven –”

“Of course, but –” 

“Metatron tricked me –”

“Metatron?”  Gabriel interrupted again.

“Let me finish!”  Castiel yelled, the still new sensation of frustrated tears blurring his vision, he refused to let them fall.  Gabriel’s mouth snapped closed and Castiel continued in a flat tone, withdrawing from the self-contempt and guilt coursing through him.  “Metatron resurfaced.  We were going to close the Gate of Heaven and the Winchesters the Gate of Hell so this plane, Earth, could be in peace forever but…” 

Castiel took a deep breath, wishing it would provide courage in addition to air.  “I was tricked.  The Gate closed but all the angels and apparently the entire Host, was banished to Earth – human.”

Gabriel whistled. 

Castiel closed his eyes and took another ragged breath.

“I mean I’ve done some messed up things but you really screwed the pooch with this one, huh?”

He nodded.  He could hear the simmering anger in Gabriel’s accusation but he did not possess the power or courage to open his eyes and meet the critical gaze.  This was the first brother Castiel admitted his deed too, all he could do was wait for his judgment.

“The whole of heaven?  Really? 

He nodded again.

“That’s almost worse than Luc –”

“That’s enough.”  Dean stood up, his outburst forcing Castiel’s eyes open and they landed on the man who's eyes shined fiercely in indignation.  Dean, once again at his defense and Castiel wondered idly why he deserved this man’s protection after everything.  “Are you coming or not?”

Gabriel chuckled but Castiel still felt the heat of his glare.  “I was always coming, sillies.  I just wanted to see how much info I could get out of this ragtag group.”

Dean growled, clenching his hand into a fist before turning towards the door.


	5. A Trial for the King of Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a bit away from me. Blame these boys for the two parter. You may also want to thank them too, because they moved their own story along a bit quicker than I expected.  
> The next section will be up soon. I'm moving tomorrow, so lets ask the internet gods to connect quickly!  
> Thanks for sticking with me! :)

Dean walked down the narrow stairwell towards the dungeon looking for Charlie.  He just arrived back from his epically long road trip with two ill humans and two former angels.  It was trying, to say the least.

No screw that, it was downright annoying.

He had to explain to Gabriel like a hundred times, that just because he now felt the heat of summer did not mean he could stick his face against the air vent and spray them with his nasty sweat.  Especially when it required knocking into his shoulder as he leaned across the bucket seat.

Luckily, the Bunker had a few extra rooms, but they were at capacity and Gabriel was already annoying everyone from the den off the front room, and they’d only been back for twenty minutes.  Dean thought of the Trickster’s curious, twitchy, fingers so near to Charlie’s computer system, currently set to scan for any signs of former angels.  He was only comforted by the knowledge that Charlie probably had pentagon level security on their mainframe.

The dungeon was the last place he turned to in his attempt to locate the nerd.  His gut sunk at the thought of his cheerful friend spending any time down there at all, especially around Crowley.  He had to admire that despite the tough choices Charlie’s made in the past, she’s still able to keep relatively sane.  Better than just sane – well adjusted.  Sending her to watch over the demon was their only option.  She faced down Dick Roman, so an incapacitated Crowley was childs play for her now.  At least that’s what the Winchester’s had hoped.

Dean heard mumbled voices as he approached the hallway leading to the cell of his royal pain in the ass.

“Red.”  Dean paused at Crowley’s pleading voice, curious. He was _not_ spying, he was, uh, gathering information. 

“Shush, Crowley.”  Charlie’s voices softly admonishing.  “Let me just do this, okay?”

“I told you it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, I think it does.” 

“Back in the day, I’d have taken to you like cat to cream; just as creamy as that skin of yours.  I would have told you that you could see them again, you know, that with just one deal they could be back from the dead.”

“Shut it.”  Charlie’s stern voice filtered into the hallway and Dean wondered how the demon could have learned the details of her parent’s death, when he had just learned them himself.  “Just hold still Crowley, I’ve almost got the last of the blood.”

Blood.  Dean started forward, blood meant violence and in his experience, violence usually meant trouble. 

“The cuffs are fine, kid. Just a wee bit tight.”

“What did I just say?”

“Aye, ‘shutting it’ mam.”  Crowley joked.  My, they sure got chummy.  “I don’t deserve this.”  The demon’s admission, barely a whisper in the hallway.

“No.”  Charlie said sternly.  “You don’t.”

“They are going to kill me.”

There was a pause and Dean moved forward, hearing the clanging of the chain, squeezing of water from a cloth. 

“Maybe.”

Another silence and Dean considered how many times Charlie sat down here in the last few days.

“Let them.”

….

The next day Dean woke up in his own room, curled into the pillow and holding on to sleep.  The last time he was in this bed, he wasn’t sure if Cas was dead or alive.  He had stared at the ceiling for hours, glaring at the cracks and willing Charlie’s computers to bleep.

He turned over, away from the unhappy pull in his stomach whenever he thought of Cas in that stupid fucking farm.  He thought instead of the mostly ignored problem of Crowley.  Dean groaned as he forced himself out of bed. 

The demon was planting manipulative seeds of friendship in his team and, because they had no idea what was truly going on in the bastard’s mind, it could only be a bad thing.

He found Sam, alone, in the kitchen.  He was watching an egg fry on the stove and Dean hoped that he managed to get some sleep.

“How you feeling?”

Sam startled.  “Socks on marble floor make you virtually impossible to hear.”

“Noted.”  Dean slid into the chair by the kitchen table.  “Now answer the question.”

Sam turned back to his egg.

“Pretty much the same as before.”

Dean leaned forward.  “Pretty much?”

“The sleep helped a bit,” Sam shrugged, “I feel stronger.”

Dean swore.  “I knew you should have stayed here.  There was no reason for you to trek across the country with us.”

Sam breathed, they had this argument countless times already. 

“Do you want an egg?”

Dean glared at the obvious change of subject but nodded.

“We need to figure out what to do with Crowley.”  It was the next obvious step now that they found Cas and still had no leads with Sam.  Dean watched his brother walk over, placing a fried eggs in front of him. 

“What do you mean?”  Sam asked through a mouthful of his own egg sandwich.

“Charlie’s getting attached.”

Dean got a good view of his brother’s breakfast as his jaw dropped.  “He’s not a _dog_ , Dean.”

“Yea, well, he’s not a saint either.”  Dean knew what he was about to say would frustrate his brother, maybe even infuriate him.  Sam saw the world as one big conflicting shade of grey but Dean knew this was right.  There were few things that were black and white, good and evil, and this was one of them.  His father raised him to believe it within his core.  “We should let Kevin decide.”

Sam dropped his fork and leaned back in his chair, bringing his arms to cross along his chest. 

“You mean kill him.”

Dean held his brother’s judgmental glare.  He was in the right, he repeated to himself.  “If that’s what he decides.”

“Because he killed Linda?”

At Dean’s tense nod, Sam pushed his chair back and began pacing in anger.  “This isn’t Azazel, Dean.  Crowley isn’t some black hearted demon anymore.  He’s repenting!”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t guilty, Sam!”

“Even the justice system doesn’t give the death penalty to mentally insane criminals!”

Dean stood up too, matching his brother’s angry stance.  “This isn’t any old criminal, Sammy.  We’re talkin’ the King of Hell.”

“What if he knows something?”  Sam asked and Dean knew it was his brother’s last pleading attempt.

“He would have told us already.  Look, it’s a tough call,” Dean paused, thinking of his rage when he pulled the trigger of the colt against the demon that took their mother away, “but it’s not ours to make.”

….

It was late afternoon and he wasn’t looking for Cas.  Dean was checking to make sure they locked the roof entrance.  He was overseeing the weed situation in the front walk.  He was sweeping the hallway the led to the bedrooms.  But he was not looking for Cas.  

“Sam said you were looking for me.”

Dean caught his elbow on the wall of the hallway as he turned to find the man he was most definitely not looking for at the end of the hallway.

“Sam was right about socks on these damn floors.”  He mumbled, wondering when he became so jittery around the former angel.  Their old camaraderie, their brothers in arms, came so easily in the past but now Dean sometimes felt cautious around the man, like everything that was unsaid between them had grown so big they couldn’t even walk around it anymore.

Castiel squinted at him.  “What?”

“Nothing.”  Dean covered quickly.  “What’s up?”

“I just told you, Dean.”  He spoke slowly, as if Dean was a child, and he wondered where Cas learned the sarcastic tone, if it was from them or that Glenn something or another back at the barn.  “Sam said you were looking for me.”

“Well,” Dean leaned against the broom, hoping for a casual stance.  “I’m not.”

Castiel smirked and the sight of it on the still grieving human caused his stomach to flip.  “So why are at the entryway to by my room?”

Dean sputtered, holding up the broom.  “This place doesn’t clean itself.”

 “Sam thinks I should talk to you about Crowley.”  Cas stated, easily ignoring his bluff.

“Jesus, did he tell you that?”  Dean could not believe his brother, sending Cas of all people to set him “straight” when the guy was having enough problems of his own.

“No.  I heard you both yelling about him, then Sam told me you were walking around the Bunker looking for me.  Whether you are or not, he obviously wants me to talk you in hopes of persuading you out of you decision concerning Crowley.  You two are not very subtle and my room is not far from the kitchen.  I formed the conclusion on my own.”

“So you here to talk me out of it?”  Dean accused.

Cas shook his head and all of a sudden he transformed back to that lost man he as when Dean picked up from Colorado. 

“I wonder if you will pass the same judgment on me, as well.”  Cas began, eyes glued to the floor.  “If soon you two will be discussing my fate and if so,” he watched Castiel take a deep breath and meet his eye, “I am ready.”

Dean froze.  “What?”

“Just because I am your friend, does not mean I am not guilty Dean.”

“You didn’t kill anyone.”

His eyes dropped to the floor again.  “Didn’t I?

Dean leaned the broom against the wall and walked over to the troubled man.  He placed a hand on his scruffy chin, forcing their eyes to meet.  “You listen to me Cas and you listen to me good.  You made a mistake, you’ve made them before and you’ll make them again.” 

Cas started, but Dean just shook his head, dropping his hand but remaining close, making sure that his friend heard every word.  “Listen.  You were trying to do good.  You’re _always_ trying to do good.  Yes, you should have turned to us when you were in too deep, but that does not make you _evil_.  That makes you stubborn.” 

Dean paused, searching blue eyes for any hint that his words were reaching the man in front of him, when Cas crumpled forward leaning his head on Dean’s shoulder.  “But their wings.  Dean, their _wings_.”  His moans muffled by Dean’s plaid shirt. 

Dean slid his hand up the jet-black hair, tracing his fingers along its strands, willing his friend to see the truth.  “You’re not Crowley, Cas.  Your good intentions matter.” 

The bright blue eyes lifted, shimmering with unshed tears.  “I can’t just sit here and let this be the end for every angel, for heaven.  I need to fix this.”

Dean smiled, softly and brushed an escaping tear away.  His Angel, this man, always bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders, never seeing that Dean was here, waiting to help.  It should frustrate him.  It should make his blood boil, Castiel _still_ refusing to ask him for support.  It should make him want to yell or punch the nearest wall, and it would have, if he hadn’t been holding the pained man’s face in his hand.  Watching as tears entered the new human’s eyes, feeling the shoulders shake with pain.  He could see the ragged breaths as they escaped from behind pink lips and Dean shook his head slightly.

 “No Cas.”  The words drew Castiel’s eyes to his lips.  “When Sam let Lucifer out of the cage, we didn’t leave him to pick up the pieces solo.”  Dean ran a hand through his hair and stayed close to the man that refused to meet his eye, needing Castiel to grasp his words.  “This is the one thing you’ve never fully understood, no matter if you could read minds or not, you never got it.  Your messes are our messes.  Human or Angel; Earth, Heaven or Purgatory, you’re stuck with us and it’s time for you to just accept it.”

Castiel sucked in a breath, brought his eyes back to Dean’s and for the first time in longer than Dean could remember, he saw faith in them.  Faith in him.  A small smile crossed the former angel’s face, lightening him completely.  Dean thought he’d only ever see pain and grief in those eyes after the Fall, but here he was, hopeful, thankful.

It was in that moment that Castiel closed the gap between them and brought their lips together.

Time stopped.

Dean knew, somewhere in a fog, that he was standing in the hallway of the Bunker, but he only felt the tentative chapped lips against his own and the corresponding surge of confused _want_.  Want to give comfort, want to receive it.  He sucked in his own breath and when Castiel moved to end their chaste kiss, Dean surged forward, but the other man had stepped back too far. 

Dean opened his eyes and saw blue.  

“Thank you, Dean.”  Then he watched as Castiel turned and opened the door to his room.

“Uh, sure, Cas.”  He frowned.  “Anytime.”


	6. A Trial for the King of Hell p.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay with this one! Dean wasn't too happy either.

There would be a trial.  Sam’s puppy dog eyes and Charlie’s shocked, indignant expression made it the only available option.  Dean gave a vague nod, agreeing to the decision easily. 

Charlie brightened but Sam scrunched his eyes in suspicion.  Dean knew his brother could tell he was distracted.  The decision of Crowley, the only thing on his mind just hours before, was now buried under what happened between him and Cas in the hallway.

A man had never kissed him before.

To be fair, he had never been kissed like that before, period.  Kissing led to sex.  It was a means to an end.  But of course with Cas, like many things with Cas, he threw all of Dean’s preconceived notions of what _was_ , straight into the garbage.

The kiss was a gift, a thank-you.  That was all.

His annoyingly persistent thoughts of pushing the other man back into the wall, deepening the kiss, sliding his body along the smaller man’s frame….  They were all inappropriate.  His entirely new human friend wanted to thank him and didn’t know how, that was all.

Maybe his entirely new human friend needed to be taught what more kissing could be.  Tease his mouth open, slide his hand into his hair, pull him close, teach him that there is more to being human than pain, grief and guilt.  He could have opened the door after Cas left him in the hallway, pushed him down on the bed Dean knew waited in the center of the room.

He shook away the thought.  It was really just a thank-you, because Dean knew Cas had kissed before.  He watched him push Meg against the wall, a scarring image that used to give him the willies but now created a nagging pit in his spine. 

Maybe Cas was pushing boundaries, seeing what he could take from Dean as a human, maybe he had been waiting.  As an angel, maybe he was worried about hurting Dean.  

What was this anyway?  Was he _wanting_ it to be more with Cas?  His friend that thought he was useless and, because of that, no longer someone Dean wanted to have on his team.  How did they go from that to this, so quickly?  Did Cas finally understand that Dean was here for good and think it time to take that last step in their relationship that has always been a symbol for lack of personal space?

Screw symbols.  These thoughts were not the right response to a simple, chaste, grade school kiss.  Hell, Dean got more action _in_ grade school.  He wasn’t going to let his thoughts of a single kiss frustrate him further. 

Then he remembered Cas’ soft gasp when Dean tried to surge forward and the heat from yesterday returned.  He wondered if Cas would have even objected if he had gone after him. 

Dean cursed at himself.  When had he started thinking of Castiel in bed as an opportunity?  When the freaking angel practically threw himself on him, that’s when. 

He needed a shower, a cold one preferably, especially since they had to play judge, jury, and executioner for the King of Hell today.

…

Dean met the others in the War Room, still drying his hair with a towel as he walked in.  He studiously avoided all things Cas.  Dean noted everything already set up, Crowley chained to a chair in the center of a large Devil’s Trap.  He was silent; a state that always worried him.  In front of the demon, placed alone on a small wooden table, was an Angel Blade.

Kevin, Sam and Castiel sat in chairs along the circle of the Devil’s Trap and Charlie stood, stationed on one side of Crowley.  An empty space remained on the other side: prosecution and defense. 

So Dean would speak on behalf of all the people who lost their lives to the demon known as Crowley.  

Good.

In silence, he took his place to the left of the demon and resisted his urge to kick the foot of the chair.

Sam stood up slowly, still shaky.  “We are gathered here today to –”

“Oo, did I just walk in on the largest polyamorous wedding in history?”  Gabriel smirked around a ham sandwich.  “Inter-species, at that!” 

“Deciding to join us?”  Sam asked, annoyed.

“Nah, I’ll just watch the Justice League at work.”

When Gabriel settled against the wall, Sam continued.  “We’re here today –”

“And gone tomorrow!”  Gabriel chimed in.

“Oh for the love of…”  Exasperated, Sam looked to Dean for help but he was too out of sorts to provide more than a shrug.  That wouldn’t get past an already suspicious Sam, either.

“Enough, Gabriel.”  It was Castiel’s stern voice reverberating off marble walls that finally brought Dean’s eyes to the other man.  He immediately wished it hadn’t.  Castiel slouched over in his chair, eyes on his hands, and the image overwhelmed Dean with an urge to walk over and nudge his shoulder, say some lame joke to bring that smirk from earlier back into his eyes.  He was sick of seeing the former angel look like he just watched someone kill a puppy.

“Yea yea.”  Gabriel agreed, twisting his fingers in front of his lips, thankfully locking his not-so-witty remarks away.

Sam took a deep breath.  “We’re here for a trial.  Dean will go first with charges and accusations and Charlie will provide the defense.  Castiel, Kevin and I will act as judge and jury.”  Sam paused, looking over at the former archangel.  “And apparently, Gabriel will provide the peanut gallery.”

“Every trial needs one.”  Charlie added.

“Let’s just get this over with.”  Dean cut in.  He didn’t have time for this monkey trial.  There was only one right way for this to end, and he wanted it over quickly.  They needed this black-eyed, pain in their ass out of the way for years and now it was time.  “It’s simple, really.  We got the King of Hell here.  So, obviously, he’s evil.  He’s killed, tortured, tormented and created a virtual fucking reality for Kevin to stew in for months.  He somehow manipulated all of you people into thinking he deserves a break and its bullshit.  Charge: King. Of. Hell. Sentencing: Angel Blade.  Done and done.”

Gabriel snorted from the corner.  “Wow, Dean.  Eloquent.”

“What happened to quiet, Gabriel?”  Castiel asked from his chair before Dean could form a reply.

“Sticking up for your boyfriend, now?”

Dean watched Castiel flush and say nothing in response.  He filed that away for later.

“Am I going to have to kick you out, Gabriel?”  Dean asked.

“I’d like to see you try.”  Gabriel stated defiantly.

Sam laughed.  “You do realize you’re like a foot shorter than him and completely wiped out of powers, right?”

Gabriel shrugged, but Dean saw some of his bravado fade.

“Anyway,” Castiel interjected, “I believe it’s the girl’s turn.”

Dean watched Charlie as she dropped a hand to Crowley’s shoulder, squeezing a little as if to reassure him.  The demon tensed under her hand, but remained quiet.  She cleared her throat nervously. 

“I don’t know a lot about Demons.  I haven’t been hunting them since I was a kid or sent from Heaven to deal with them.  I know that they are evil sons of bitches that could make Voldemort look like Santa Claus…but I also know that they were all originally human.  It took the torturers of hell to twist them into evil.”  At this, her eyes flashed towards Dean and he tried not to tense under her scrutiny.  

He wasn’t the one on trial here.

“The guy has done evil, we all know it.  But can we really say this man is the same as that man, is that Crowley really this Crowley?  He has listed the names of every person, Angel, demon, and so on, that he killed or tortured.  When you guys were all in Vegas, he wanted to write their names on his cell wall with his own blood.”  Dean watched as Charlie started to fluster.  He realized that to her, Crowley’s death would be a complete injustice, a murder of a nearly innocent man, but she didn’t know him before – she only knew him now.  “I hate to get all Atticus Finch on you, but wouldn’t it make more sense to let him suffer the punishment of his own memories over death by execution?”

Charlie finished and Gabriel’s slow clap broke the tense silence.

“Thank you, peanut gallery.”  Sam mumbled through an amused smirk.  “We’re now going to take what you both said, and the evidence the three of us know, under consideration.  We’ll return with a verdict shortly.”

As the Hunter, Prophet and former Angel left, Gabriel pushed off the wall, walking around the rim of the Devil’s Trap.  “That one sure wanted to be a lawyer, didn’t he?”

Gabriel took Dean’s silence as an affirmative.  “Well, he got to perform a trial on this guy.”  He pointed his thumb towards Crowley.  “King of Hell, can’t really top that in law school, huh?”

“Do you think they’ll be back soon, Dean?”  Charlie asked.

“How the hell should I know?”  He snapped.

Charlie shrunk back, obviously suprised at his outburst. Gabriel twirled around the edge of the circle.         

“My, my Dean-o.  Testy.  Hard to see your bro getting a taste at a life he could never have?”  He twirled his finger, “or maybe it has something to do with that all too quiet angel.  Trouble in human paradise?”

“Oh would you just shut it.”  Dean groaned.  He didn’t need to take this.  “Sorry Charlie, stressful day.  I’ll be back.”

Dean walked in the direction of the jurors but stopped to sit at the table in the library.  He threw himself in a chair, feet up on the long table, and enjoyed the silence for a minute.

He could see the figures of the three jurors as they huddled together in the corner of the upper level of the library.  Dean couldn’t hear what they were saying but it looked like Sam was adamantly discussing something, his gigantic arms animated.  Kevin was eagerly shaking his head and Cas, Cas was swaying a little of the back of his heels, silent.

Dean wondered what would happen the next time the two of them were alone, if Castiel would mention what happened in the hallway or leave Dean there to continuously run it over in his head on instant replay.  Dean wasn’t one to talk about feelings or chick-flick moments but he wondered if he was going to have to instigate an awkward conversation just to feel normal again.

Cas’ eyes swept the first floor, as if he was wondering why he was part of this decision.  They landed on Dean and stayed.  Dean felt the connection between them settle something warm inside him.  He shared a small commiserating smile with the other man, raising an eyebrow to remind him that he should be deliberating.  Castiel’s responding smile reached his eyes before he turned back to the small group.

Something had calmed between them with that kiss, a revelation that they were in this together, finally.  Dean thought all the confused awkwardness flowing just under his skin might be worth it for that simple understanding.

…

It took forty-five minutes for the jury to return.  By this point, Charlie had dragged a chair into the Devil’s Trap and Gabriel had disappeared into the kitchens, acting like he was growing teen depleting their stocks.  He returned to the War Room with a bowl of cereal when he heard the others coming down the stairs.

“We’ve come to a decision.”  Sam informed them, before breaking into a small coughing fit.

Kevin looked at Gabriel, “Before you say ‘took you long enough’, I’ll be giving the verdict.”

“He really is a Prophet.”  Gabriel mumbled under his breath.

“Or you’re just unoriginal.”  Charlie shot back.

Gabriel looking almost giddy with delight.  “Ginger’s got claws!” 

Kevin stepped forward and all eyes swung to him, even Crowley, who spent the entire trial memorizing the lines on the ground that trapped him in place.  Everyone knew Kevin held the final decision. 

He walked to the small table and picked up the Angel Blade, turning it in his hand so that it broke the light.

“You little prat.”  Kevin snarled the words like Crowley had to him not long ago, when the tables were turned and he was the prisoner.  “You having fun yet?”

Crowley raised his eyes to Kevin but remained silent.

“Just going to stay their quiet, huh?  After everything.”

“There’s nothing to say, Kevin.”  Crowley stated, his Scottish accent softening.

“You’re right, there isn’t.  There is no forgiveness for you.”

Kevin crouched before the demon, raising the Angel blade so it rested over the demon’s black heart, barely an inch separating them.  “You’ve killed countless, Crowley. Channing, my mother. You didn’t even provide your own defense.”

“There isn’t one.”

Kevin laughed but it came out as a strangled choke.  “Why couldn’t you have stayed that evil son of a bitch just a little longer so I could watch you explode?”

Kevin took a deep settling breath and turned to look at the others.  He caught Dean’s eye, “I can’t. It’s not the same Crowley. Charlie was right.”

Crowley erupted, pulling on the chains that kept him strapped to the chair.  “No!” He screamed, begged.  “I can’t live like this, you have to stop this.  The names, the faces, I didn’t – it was the demon – please.  Stop this.”

They were all stunned by his outburst, unable to react and Dean watched the King of Hell pushed himself onto the Angel Blade still pressed against him.  Yellow sparks exploded from his chest and he took one last breath, the final bit of light leaving his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Winchesters.”

Next to Dean, Sam collapsed.


	7. The Fallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys have officially taken the wheel.

The marble is cold against his back; it seeps through his shirt and coat, bypassing his shoulders to settle deep into his bones.  As a Soldier in Heaven’s Army, he was not a stranger to the feeling of dread, even sometimes fear, but the literal bite of cold casting goosebumps along his arms was something entirely human.  Castiel felt it an appropriate accompaniment to the sight before him, a Winchester sitting beside the hospital bed of his brother, waiting for him to waken. 

Dean’s hands are fraught in his hair, the silence of the room only interrupted by the beeping monitor equipment, informing them of Sam’s stability.  Castiel knew it wasn’t enough for Dean. That he would sit alongside his brother until he regained consciousness. 

The others had quickly taken to the library, looking for a cure they knew would not be found in volumes they already poured over.  Castiel saw it for what it was, a reason to leave this echoing room that was only a minute ago awash with the panic from the end of the trial. 

The girl and Prophet had rushed to Crowley, pulling the Blade out of him, but it was too late.  The demon’s eyes, usually keen with a plan or a snark, were lifeless. Dean had rushed to his brother’s side. Pulling his head into his lap, screaming at him as if the louder he roared the more likely the younger man would hear it. He had not. Castiel soon pried Dean’s hands off his shoulders and together they carried him to a clinic. It was a small facility they had found shortly after the Fall, off a wing in the basement.  The other’s had dragged Crowley with them, a sentiment that pricked at Castiel. 

The King of Hell did not deserve their kindness, yet he watched the girl and the Prophet place him gently on a metal bed and push him into the cold morgue wall.  The boy, who had been so adamant to have the man gone, stared at Crowley’s face with cold eyes and Castiel knew the look of a man left only with the empty success of revenge.  The girl wept. 

After they left and he had remained at his post by the door, watching over the Winchesters. 

_Human or Angel; Earth, Heaven or Purgatory, you’re stuck with us and it’s time for you to just accept it._

In that moment, Castiel inflated with the sense of purpose – to help Dean through this, to help them fix everything.  He thought as human he was weak, useless.  Now he saw the ridiculousness of the notion.  How could human be weak when this man sitting frozen in the chair, facing yet _another_ strife, was human.  To believe humanity weak is to condemn the man before him to the same judgment.  Dean was strength and it strengthened him, emboldened him.  That was why, in that infallible moment, he had surged forward to connect them.

When the intoxicating feeling of faith and certainty faded, Castiel knew Dean was left feeling tense, while he instead moved forward mildly amused.  He knew their bond would survive Dean’s awkward self-consciousness and Castiel was happy to express his gratitude for the other man.  Explain to him the joy he felt at having Dean there, the only way that seemed to fit.

Now Dean was here watching Sam, and Castiel would be here with them.

…

It was close to an hour later, Dean had fallen into an agitated sleep and Castiel was wondering if something had been keeping him up at night, when the Prophet appeared in the doorway.

“I had another one.”  He told Castiel but his eyes were on the resting Winchester brothers.  “You know I don’t know if I’ve ever seen them so unguarded.”  He gestured at Dean.  “Doesn’t he usually only sleep with a weapon under his pillow or something?”

“He knows I am here.”  Castiel stated.

The Prophet looked around uneasily, clearing his throat, “Uh…right.  I came down here to tell them that I felt another one while I was napping on the couch.  It was another Fallen, a redhead, the one that looked a bit like Charlie.”

“Anna.”

“Right.  I finally got her location down. She was in a bunk bed, one of those metal framed ones.  There was also music, like a choir.  I got a cross street too, so we were able to figure out which intersection matches my vision.  Thank God for GoogleMaps.”

As the Prophet rambled Castiel thought back to the last time he saw Anna.  It was before the apocalypse, after she tried to kill Sam and went after John and Mary.  It still pained him that his last words to her were a threat, but how could he have foreseen Michael’s swift hand?  The centuries between them forever fractured as they both tried to fulfill the same goal: stopping Lucifer.

Except now, forever is undone.  Now she was alive and presumably, if Gabriel was to be any indication, with memories intact.  The Angel that pulled out her own Grace to join humanity is human again. She would remember Castiel’s betrayal as the one that led her back to Heaven, captured, tortured. 

“Charlie and I did a quick search and we found her in the corner of Cottage St and E State St. We believe she is at a place called Liberty Center.  There is a choir there.”

Dean stirred from his sleep and he leaned back from where he was resting his head on the bed, stretching.  Castiel watched how his the languid, pull of muscles snap tense when he saw the Prophet standing there, obviously relaying news.

“Really?”  Dean grumbled at the boy before glancing over at him with what Castiel could only call a pout.  “I just woke up and not even a second of down time?”

“I had another vision –”

“I figured.”  Dean cut the Prophet off, green-eyes still fixed on him.  “Any change?”

“Sam has not stirred, but the monitors remained stable.”

The corner of his lip pulled up just a little.  “You stand there the whole time?”

Castiel remained silent in reply; of course he had.

“We know this is related to Crowley.”  Dean sounded so certain as he repeated the same argument they were having before they had fallen into silence and then, for Dean, sleep.

“It is possible but not certain.”  He joined the other man at the side of the bed.  “Sam was very ill, Dean.  He’s stable now.  We’ll know more when he wakes up.”

“Uh, guys…visions.

“Right,” Dean said with a gruff.  “I can't go get Anna right now, not with Sam out like this.  We’ll wait till he wakes up.”

“Gabriel offered to go.”  He offered, hesitantly.

Castiel looked up from Sam at that, surprised.  "All angels are brothers and sisters but Gabriel and Anna hardly knew each other."

Kevin shrugged. "Apparently sharing the same afterlife allowed them to form a bond or something.  He seemed to perk up at the thought of getting out of here for a bit too.  I was going to go with him.”  He paused.  “Something was different about this vision. It was still a compulsion, pulling me forward but it was like I had more control over it.  I think it may have to do with Anna but it could also be the place.”

Dean started at the new information.  "Maybe I should go too then, in case somethings up."

"It's fine Dean. Stay here with Sam in case...” He cut himself off but the suggestion cut through the room anyway and Castiel bristled at the boy’s lack of tact.  “Charlie will be with us too, she’ll be able to help and just so you know, I'm not completely defenseless myself.  It’s not like anyone is even after us, we'll be fine."

Dean snorted. "Famous last words. You better be."

"I will remain here."

The Prophet rolled his eyes at the former angel. "Of course you will.”

He took is leave but Castiel was left unsure.  He looked over Dean, who was standing by the side of the bed again and went to join him.  He gripped the metal frame that kept a sleeping Sam tucked into the safe confines of the recovery bed.  “Would I be more useful going with them?”

Dean turned his head and Castiel felt eyes scan over the profile of his face.  There was a puff of air, almost a laugh.  Then he felt the warm calloused hand of many battles, cover his own.  “No, Cas. They got this. Stay here...with us.”

It was rare for Dean to initiate contact between them.  In the times before the Fall, Castiel could only count a handful of times that their skin had touched that were not brought on by fists to face.  He wondered if the reason they guarded their affection before was due to the electric shock that went through his hand.  This feeling could not be safe in large doses.  Had his kiss charged them?  Or had it awoken in Dean the ability to do this, be close to him without fear.  He wondered where it would lead, if he turned his hand, would Dean hold it like he has seen others do?  Was he brave enough?  What Dean needed now was comfort, and here he was comforting him instead.  Or maybe this was comfort for Dean, maybe he needed Castiel’s hand there, his presence here, to ground him.  Maybe he could do more.

Castiel stretched his fingers under Dean’s hand and held his breath.  After a moment Dean’s fingers clung to his own. Neither of them were looking at each other, eyes still on Sam, but it was like Castiel’s entire being was reduced to the feeling of Dean’s fingers holding his.

He wanted to look up, wanted to see Dean but the fear that accompanied that desire was new to him.  He never had to be brave to meet Dean’s eye before.  They were close, he could see now the freckles sprinkled over the man’s cheek, see the scruff beginning to form a shadow.  Then, with a turn of the man’s head, he had soft pink lips in front of him, a tongue flicking out to wet them.

“Cas.”

He knew he should lift his eyes to meet the other man’s but he could not tear himself away from the soft pink in front of him.  It was not like this before, when he was buoyed by the courage of Dean’s faith in him.  That was appreciation, this is magnetic.

“Cas.” Dean whispered again.

The way Dean’s lips formed his name before drawing the bottom one into a soft bite enthralled him but he wanted to reply so he matched Dean’s whisper, afraid to break whatever was happening to him, to them.  “What?”

“What are you doing?”

“Standing.”

Dean’s mouth stretched into a smirk. “You’re staring at me.”

“I always stare at you.”

“Not like this.”

“No.”

A pause.

“Do you want to kiss me again?”

A pause.

“Yes.”

He did not know what Dean expected but his mouth formed an attractive little ‘o’ as he sucked in a surprised breath.

“Can I?”

Castiel never felt so brave yet so stupid, he had been bewitched by this man’s expressive, and oh so close mouth. His taste of the tease they had in the hallway, a phantom memory. 

The fingers against his tightened and lifted their hands from the metal, pulling him so that they were fully facing each other. 

Dean was so close, he could feel the heat radiating off the other man yet he wanted to be closer.  Dean must have felt the same compulsion because he pulled them together and he felt Dean’s other arm wrap around his back, pulling towards him with a tight grip on his shoulder. 

Not an inch remained between them and the proximity forced Castiel to break his observation of the man’s lip.  Their eyes met and he almost tensed under Dean’s dark gaze.  His eyes sharp on him but Castiel could tell they were blown, black pupils taking over the green.  The corners of Dean’s eyes crinkled in delight when he saw, what must be, his own shocked expression from Dean’s closeness overwhelming him.

“Sure, Cas.”

The dam broke and Castiel surged forward, violently claiming those pink lips.  Dean moaned, or he moaned, or they both did.  Either way it opened their mouths and let Dean deepen the kiss.  The feeling of a curious tongue against his own lips causing him to melt into the other man, grip his shoulders and drag the whole length of his body against Dean’s strong frame.

Dean grasped and pushed Castiel away.  He hit a wall, confused, but only for a moment before Dean was on him again, grinding their hips together.  Castiel had to tear his mouth away, let in a breath that he simultaneously needed and hated – it took his lips from Dean, but the other man did not seem to mind, trailing his lips down Castiel’s exposed neck.

“What are we doing, Cas?” Dean asked between bites, trailing down his collarbone.

“I don’t know – copulating?”

Dean laughed. “Our clothes are still on.”

“Should we take them off?” Cas suggested, tugging at the rim of Dean’s t-shirt.

Dean laughed again and Castiel had to wonder how he could be doing anything other than moaning because Castiel was having a hard time keeping his head straight. His head was foggy, his skin was on fire and he just wanted to kiss and rub and be against the man in front of him.

“Too fast, Cas.”  Dean said, pulling away. Castiel tried to follow but Dean pressed him to the wall with his hand, took a deep breath. “Too fast.”

Castiel took a few deep breaths against the wall and looked up at Dean. 

“Oh don’t pout, we’ll be doing that again. You better freaking believe it. I wondered – after the hallway – but I didn’t know it’d be like _that_.” 

Dean looked over at Sam and a cloud passed over his face, though Castiel noticed that he looked less in despair and more frazzled.  Castiel wondered if he had inadvertently helped ease his friend’s pain, if he could continue to do so.  Dean’s hand gripped his shirt where he had been holding him back, and their eyes met again. He shook his head a little, like he was disappointed.

“What is it?”

“I just can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner. We had the freaking apocalypse! Hell, I watched you kiss _Meg_ and the whole time I was disgusted. Never thought I should’ve been jealous.”

Castiel shrugged. “That was nothing like this.”

Dean winked. “Heh, good to know. Come on, we should go see the other’s off and then...figure out some things.” 


	8. On the Axis Mundi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now for a little more plot featuring Charlie, Gabriel and Kevin.

They were on the road by sundown.  Charlie drove.  It was a pretty easy decision, she was the only one with a car.  But in reality she just wanted the control. 

Was it only weeks ago that she was in her own apartment hacking her way into a classic Wall Street gone warlock situation?  Then, bam.  A man in blue, walking a route not listed on the downloaded schedule from internal security.  She was sitting with a spliced wire between her teeth and a blank expression, but she recovered quickly –hitting the button for self-destruct and booking it out of there.  She managed an escape but was shaken enough that when she returned home to a message from Dean, she called it kismet.

She had control back then, sure she was reacting to the roll of the twenty-sided dice but the decisions were still hers. 

Then she walked into that dungeon and met a grieving demon, bloodied and chained to the wall and the horrific stories Sam and Dean had told her didn’t fit.  He looked more like a wounded Wormtail than the villainous King of Hell.

Sure, he had always slithered his way into the deal that saved his skin but that meant that he sometimes helped out in the end.  The fact that he sometimes helped out the bad guy was a sticky one, but that was before this _thing_ happened to him. 

So when the brothers sent her off to watch after him, they couldn’t help her for treating him more like a someone, uh, mentally unsound than heinous torturer and mass murderer.  After a few days, he finally stopped begging for death and they started talking real repentance. How he could live to do justice in his victims name – avenge their deaths, take a quest of good. 

She was a chameleon; good at telling the world what it wanted to hear.  She thought telling the guys during the trial that he would suffer the memory of his victims would be effective.  Now she cursed at herself, maybe she should have instead reminded Crowley of the good he could still do and things would have been different, he wouldn’t have driven himself on to the sword.

It was stay in that bunker, take to the road or leave completely.  Those were her options and she could only count one of those out, so she drove.

Gabriel called shotgun.  Yes, the archangel Gabriel called shotgun.  This is just another reason why she couldn't think straight.  Before it was gooey black evil, witches, monsters but this is Judeo-Christian hierarchy in her passenger seat.

Maybe she shouldn’t be driving, maybe she was having a panic attack.

Deep breaths.  Driving is good, focus on the driving. 

This isn’t even your first angel. You’ve stood your ground against the angel that forged his way through hell.  Reached through all that crazy scary for one single broken human.  It was hard to believe Carver Edlunds scenes really happened after meeting Castiel, though.  He seemed more like a wounded puppy than the mighty angel she read about.

They stood together in the entryway of his co-op, making introductions.  He wouldn’t even meet her eye as he shuffled his feet.  She tried to make a joke, because when life got awkward there was always room for jokes but it seemed to go over his head with his oblivious blank stare.

But that angel isn’t like this one.

“You don’t look so good.”  The archangel leaned against the window with his body shifted so he was facing her driver’s seat.  He was smacking his gum loudly, and she continued her deep breathing.

“Does this really call for yoga breathing?  Ah,” he chuckled to himself, “the things Kali taught me.”

His laughter was not the best action for calming her strained nerves.

“Want some gum, ginger?”

Hands gripped the wheel, red hair shaking in refusal.

“You gonna be okay?”

Lips bitten white, furious nodding.

“…maybe you should pull over.”

The car jerked and Kevin yelped awake from the back seat as they pulled into the shoulder.  She was out of the car and hunched over within seconds.  She wondered if the angel wished he could just snap his fingers and appear outside as he sighed and pushed open his door.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She assured between deep breaths.

“We may have some water in the car. Sorry I can’t snap you a flask, Red.  You caught me on a human day.”

 “Don’t call me that.”  Crowley called her that.

He leaned against the car, tilting his head as he watched her compose herself. “What should I call you? They call you Charlie, but that isn’t your real name.”

She looked up, surprised.  “You’re not an Angel anymore, how could you know that?”

“Humans. Young, self-assured humans.  I’ve walked this ground before your race evolved from the sea, kid.  I know a little something about observation. You’ve trained yourself to react to that name, but sometimes you falter, like you switch names often.”

Former angels, she reminded herself, weren’t entirely human.  Castiel, with his wealth of knowledge and habit of dropping a cruel fact with complete indifference and this man’s sharp inquisitive glare breaking through his casual stance against the car.  It made her wonder if the laid back attitude was just another act to help calm her down.  There was a power here, but also a sincerity that surprised her based off the accounts of fake mustaches, magician cloak.  He was trying to show her that they were on the same team here, he was not her enemy.

She straightened up and accepted the olive branch. “Call me Princess Morningside.”

...

The rest of the ride was ridiculously long and unfortunately uneventful.  They made to the town in the early morning and booked a motel room near the intersection from the Prophet’s vision.  Despite a human’s need for sleep, Gabriel found that he only needed a few nights a week to stay alert and the whole practice was annoying when he didn’t fall into the dreams immediately.

Dreams, those were one perk of humanity.  Well, sometimes.  He has a long and varied history to pull from but his brain liked him enough to often bless him with some deliciously dirty surprises.

He meant to ask his baby bro if he was experiencing the same restlessness but then the shit hit the fan and the kid saw Anna.  Cas would probably just blame any lack of sleep to another bout of brooding over his leather jacket boyfriend anyway.  

Gabriel walked across the parking lot, the town so quiet he could hear the gravel stir under his boots.  He breathed in.  His restlessness brought him to the intersection, to the dorm house next to the small church.  It was old, by American standards, but the two story church-house stood strong in time.  The air was warm but passed the sticky humidity of deep summer and he was able to stand outside comfortably.

In the afterlife he had felt one of his closest brothers, blinded by fate and prophecy, end the life of their sister, Anna.  Those days were just the beginning.  They all thrummed with sadness in their single-being as more of their kind joined the power of the Host through their physical death.  Saw through time, the horrors of a poisoned Castiel, the vengeful pride of Raphael.

They were helpless in their place.  Forced to watch, unable to act against it.  But they could comfort each other.  After centuries of ostracizing himself, of blending in to other magics and monsters, he connected with his brothers in the overwhelming mourning caused by Heaven’s Civil War.

When he returned to Earth, he continued to feel the loss of his brothers but a part of him revealed in the possibility of a clean state.  There was a selfish part of Gabriel that always took the sarcastic way out...until his end. 

He had been happy as a human those first few weeks.  He knew how to ‘do’ humanity.  It was a smirk and misdirection and he was filling in for an ill Mr. Magician.  He was almost ashamed that it took three weeks to headline his own Vegas show.  It was easy to channel his restlessness into schmoozing at the bar, flirting with the managers.  He was released from the Host, given his old vessel, and able to live again. 

Then the Winchesters and their motley crew rode their Impala into his casino and he was face to face with his baby bro.  It was his first reminder of the Host and his family.  Even through the rushing memory of loss, he hadn’t been surprised it was Cas that caused the damage, it was only appropriate that Gabriel would fall back to the group that ended his past life.

Looking up he saw there was a figure in the window, one he recognized immediately as the woman Anna’s memories projected in the Host.  She was standing in a long white shirt, a street light illuminating them both.  She raised her hand in a wave and then disappeared.

Minutes later she was standing before him, a bag in her hand and ready for travel.

“Where are we going, brother?”

She may be up to speed on this new plan, but he just stood there trying to catch up.

“I was just going on a stroll, kid.”

She tilted her head at him in a way that reminded him of Castiel and he had to wonder if it was part of the training in their particular garrison.

“We aren’t the only ones from the Host.  There must be more.”

Gabriel paused, stammered, before realizing that telling her everything at once would be the best way to break bad news of this magnitude.  He recalled some cliché of ripping bandages.  “There are tons more.  I hate to be the one to break the news but this was more than the Host.  Looks like it was all of Heaven.”

He watched the eager happiness on her face fall and she froze, trying to fully grasp his words.  “Impossible.”

He leaned on back on his heels, swinging his arms and shaking his head. “Nope.  Metatron.”

She barked a laugh, “the Word?”

“With the help of Castiel.”

“Cas?”  A flinch crossed her eye but to an untrained eye the name would of not had meaning.  His eye was trained.

“Tricked again.”

“He made his own decision to side with Crowley.” She stated firmly.

Gabriel shrugged. “Apparently Metatron told him that it would seal Heaven from Earth.”

“What? That doesn’t sound like much of a trick.”

“No, no. That was the goal.” He dragged the last word out, ending it with a snap.  “The trick was that it caused us all to Fall.  Every angel is now human.”  He let her have a moment to let the facts process.  He had to wonder if she thought of her own harsh past with humanity.  Yikes!  He shivered at the thought of ripping his own Grace out.  Now they all reached the same end point anyway.

She looked up at him, masks torn back with pain, emosthy. “Gabriel, brother, how did you even know where to find me?”

“A Prophet with visions that the Winchesters somehow got their grabby little hands on.”

“Ha the Winchesters!”  She let out a nearly manic laugh.  “Of course.”

“The boys do have a good track record of staying alive.”

“Perseverance and staying alive is not the same thing Gabriel.  We only need to look in the mirror when it comes to that fact.”

“Either way,” he continued briskly, not liking to be reprimanded by his younger sibling, “Someone seems to be sending both visions of certain angels, ourselves included, and some trippy dreams of alleyways and tunnels pulling him into some place.”

“That sounds like...”  Anna trailed off, eyes lifting to the sky.

“What?”

She turned her eyes back to her brother.  “When I died, that first time as a human, I was in a barn.  I chose to push my Grace back inside myself and my human self died.  It was only a moment, but I felt that same thing.  I saw a long field pulling me into Heaven, a compulsion to go but also a strong pull from the field itself.  I recognized it immediately as a portal to heaven, human heaven, leading me to the Axis Mundi.”

Gabriel squinted his eyes with doubt. “The road through Heaven?”

“It itself is part of the portal between Heaven and Earth. It explains why its constantly different each time the Prophet sees it, since every human experiences their own Heaven and the Axis Mundi differently. But why would the Prophet be getting visions of the road to the Garden?”

Gabriel rushed through thoughts, his new human mind unable to keep up with the conclusions he was jumping to.  “Maybe that is where Metatron is?  Maybe the Prophet is meant to follow the portal?  It could be many things.  The Winchester’s hunter friend, another sexy redhead, and the Prophet are not far from here, though we may want to wait till the some comes up before we barge in.”

She rolled her eyes at him, “You have very many legends but none of them had to do with politeness.  Come on.”

...

The noise of the bar hummed around him.  There weren’t many other people inside, which made sense because it looked about noon outside the window.  He was nursing a beer and there was a man with a mullet clicking away on a laptop in front of him.  He didn’t take this for a bar with wifi.  

He looked out the window for a bit, wondering how he ended up in a bar in the middle of the woods.  As he stared, the trees in front of him blurred and twisted into a swirl.  He turned back to his beer, vision resettling and able to read the label.  Just an average hops with a low alcohol content, nothing to explain how the trees were now a spiraled blur. 

Except, of course, that this was a vision.

Maybe it was the fake beer in his system or the fact that he finally had enough, either way he put down his drink walked out the door and stared down the dark hole that was slowly eating its way across the forest.  Kevin reminded himself one last time, in a stern voice that reminded him of his mother, that this was just a vision before swan diving into the darkness.

The pull captured him quickly.  He allowed it to become just a ride in his head, a trip to a theme park with one lurch going for too long, one hard sideswipe too many.  A light broke in front of him, the other end.  When he broke through, he thought he’d be in the sky somewhere, falling towards the ground but instead he was in his own hotel room, standing over himself and Charlie.

He watched Gabriel and another redhead walk into the room.  Gabriel pulled out a small whiskey from the mini bar and threw himself in a nearby chair, but Anna stood in the middle of the room, staring at him.  She said something that sounded like ‘Axis Mundi’ before the portal sucked him back in and he was standing outside the bar again.

He curled into himself, taking a long deep breath.  What the fuck.  He burst back into the bar and walked quickly to the mulleted man behind the bar.  “Did you see that, man?”

“That vortex outside?”  The man replied, eyes still on the screen.  “Nope, that’s all you.”

“Well then how did you know what I was talking about?”

The man pointed to the screen.  “This allows me to see what you can see, what everyone here can see.”

“Everyone where?”

“Heaven.”

Kevin jumped back so quickly the stool next to him fell to the ground.

“Are you an angel?”

“No, man.  I’m like you,” he paused. “Well, more or less. Minus the Prophet part. What I mean to say is I’m a human or was.”

Kevin looked around, he didn’t expect Heaven to smell like stale bar food. “So I died? Is this death? And what exactly is the Axis Mundi?”

The man finally pushed away from his computer and walked over.  He pulled two more canned beers out of the fridge and placed one in front of him. 

“You’re here because I put this vision in your head and the one of the vortex, and the Axis Mundi is a fancy term for portal to heaven and the road through it.  Only the angel’s call it that though.”

“So, _you’re_ sending these visions?”

“No need to act so surprised.  I’m the jumper of Heavens, hacker of the Host – Ash. Surely the boys of told you about me.”

Kevin shook his head, looked towards the nearest exit and started running the numbers on how plausible it was that this whole story was true. He’d seen enough of his own life story to figure this crazy southern man was probably telling the truth.

“By boys, you mean Sam and Dean.” He asked.

The man, Ash, beamed. “Who the hell else but the Winchesters?”

Kevin sighed. “Ain’t that the truth.”

 “I’ve been sending you visions of the angels too, the ones we knew the guys knew.  We figured it’d be good to get a crew together if you guys were going to take on Metatron.”

A million questions flooded Kevin’s mind after the crazy declaration of raiding Heaven. “First, take on Metatron? Not posible, we have like 6 humans against the Word of God.” He pulled back. “And second, these past visions feel different. Both this one and the last one, I was able to walk around in – make decisions. Why?”

“Ah, well that’s easy.” Ash declared, taking a long sip of beer.  “We’ve been trying to figure out how to program you with more control.  Finally got it with the Anna vision.  That lady has serious residual connections to humanity, much more than any other angel, and it allowed us to loop your control into hers.” At Kevin’s confusion he quickly added, “It’s some fancy coding.”

“She was able to see me in my vision too, she told me about the Axis Mundi.”

Ash considered the new information and jumped back to his laptop with delight.

Kevin interrupted his frantic typing.  “You keep saying ‘we’...”

"Hey! Come in here!" Ash yelled, between clicks on the keyboard.

The door by the back of the bar opened and a bearded man with a baseball cap walked in.  Ash slid a beer across the counter but the man just shook his head, continued approaching Kevin.

“Names Bobby – ”

Kevin stopped short, “You’re Bobby Singer?”

“So you’ve heard of him then?”  Ash cut-off, offended.

“Shut it, Ash.  Of course the kid knows me, I practically raised those boys!”  He turned back to Kevin.  “We're going to raid heaven and get those winged assholes back where they belong, so go back there and tell those idjits the new plan.”

“Wait. Wait. What's the plan?”  He started to ask but the vision was fading before he could finish, within a moment he was back in his bed, three sets of eyes on him. 


	9. Transformations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for that M rating. Enjoy :)

 

**12 hours earlier**

“I wired Sam’s monitors to your cellphones. You’ll be able to hear if there are any changes.”  Charlie informed them absentmindedly.

“Uh huh.” He replied equally as distracted.  “Be sure you let us know if anything comes over vision-radio, okay?”  Dean reminded again.  He knew he must sound like a broken record.  It was just that he really couldn’t pull up much encouraging, slightly paternal niceties right now.  He was itching in his own skin, barely able to focus, all because Cas was looking at him from across the room.  Dean took a steadying breath.

Sure, to everyone else it looked like he was just talking to Gabriel.  But from his spot across the room he had a direct line to the furtive glazes that Cas kept purposely short, always during the in-between moments when something shiny across the room stole Gabriel’s attention.  The looks would hit him and instantly every word Dean had planned jumbled into mush and instead he’d sputter whatever nonsense he could think appropriate for a time like this. Heartbeat kicked up a notch, all the while.

Act. Normal.

He walked them to the door, Cas’ location in the room a laser beam into his consciousness and he was forced to put a few people between them to keep the heat at bay for fear of explosion.  He didn’t think they’d appreciate his self-combustion…well except maybe Gabriel.

“Let us know if there are any changes with your better half.”  Gabriel’s seemingly genuine concern for his brother surprised Dean, but he just nodded without any usual snark and ushered them through the door.  As it closed he noticed the archangel eye him suspiciously. 

Maybe not so normal. 

He secured the lock but couldn’t turn around right away.  There was a few ways this could go.  He could panic out of the room, make some excuse about Sam and shuffle down the stairs to the clinic.  Then he could pretend it never happened and they’d return to normal; back to innocent personal space issues and offhand statements of brotherly love.  Or he could own up to it, realize that the connection between them changed with that stupid kiss – Profound Bond Version 2.0.

Dean Winchester was not a coward.

He also had no idea how to deal with the situation.  He tried to talk himself through it.  How would he act if he'd kissed anyone else that freaking hotly?  Easy, try and get more.  So he started to turn towards Castiel with a patent playboy twinkle in his eye.  But by the time he pinned it on the former angel, the act fell.  Looking at the man in the center of the room with his own patented head tilt, he knew that he could only bring honesty to this table; these were the types of tables Dean usually tried to avoid.

He didn’t say anything, curious to see if Cas would start the conversation, or maybe he’d shock them both and he would surge forward like before, claiming Dean again.  He could totally go for that.  But instead the silence lingered on.

“What are we doing, Cas?” He asked before the room turned awkward.  His question from before, then ripped out of his lips as he dragged them down his friend’s jaw, now asked in a casual way, allowing Cas to give him some damn clue on how he is taking this whole thing.

He got his clue in the way Cas’ eyes darkened immediately, remembering.  He let out a small deep chuckle that made Dean clench his fist, resisting an urge to push the angel back against the wall.  “Well, I know we are not copulating this time.”  Cas smirked at his own joke but when he continued, his tone turned serious. “We are standing in the entryway of the Bunker deciding whether we will talk about what just happened between us in the clinic or to continue on like it never happened.”  Cas paused, frowning, “I find it very confusing Dean, since you told me only a half an hour ago that we would be ‘doing that again’.  In fact, you sounded incredibly enthusiastic.  I believe you even lamented over not engaging in a more physical aspect of our relationship year’s back, during the apocalypse.”  He looked up, meeting Dean’s gaze with a curious but disappointed one.  “Am I to believe those exclamations were only said in what is phrased as the ‘heat of the moment?’

Dean gaped, this honesty thing's a bitch.

He walked over to Castiel, noticing that the man shoulders were back – a prideful swell, a challenge for Dean’s potential bull shit.  It allowed Dean to appreciate the strength in his frame, unable to be hidden by the drowning trench coat. 

He stopped before he could feel the heat radiating from him, a safe distance to keep his head straight. Because that was where he was now; unable to stay focused if he got too close to a man who loved to invade personal spaces. “You were the one who started this in the hallway.”  Dean heard the hint of petulance in his own voice and winced.

“I meant only to thank you for your faith and belief.”  Castiel clarified.

He snorted.  “It obviously morphed into more than that.”

Dean squirmed a bit under Castiel’s scrutinizing gaze.  “Obviously.”

Dean took a deep breath and looked into blue eyes, a face he knew he could trust despite its history of epic bad decisions.  He couldn’t help wondering if this was another.  “We can’t just go jumping each other’s bones, Cas. We’re friends and uh,” he gestured aimlessly around the empty bunker with his hands, “ in case you haven’t noticed we’re in the middle of a mission.”

Castiel stepped forward suddently and Dean’s breath cut off.  “I fail to see why these facts are nothing more than an excuse.  Is it because I am in male form?”  He ventured.

Dean sputtered.  “What?  No!”

Cas rolled his eyes at Dean’s reaction and he had to wonder if his friend was right.  He’d never considered him that way before that fucking chaste kiss, not because he had anything against it but because he hadn’t see it as an option.  It was like getting in the Impala and having it fly.  Not something he was oppose too really, just something he never knew he could do. 

“I know you have always been a traditional man, Dean.  But you’ve perused romantic attachments during missions before and have even approached friends for these sorts of encounters in my own presence.”  He added, probably remembering Jo, or maybe Anna.  “The only conclusion I can form is that it is because I am a man that you are hesitant or it is because you are not as drawn to…this, as I am.”

 “No, man!”  Dean started.  He couldn’t have Cas thinking that.  He just didn’t know what to do. “I…” He began, taking in a deep breath. “I do…”  He looked at Castiel pointedly before gathering his courage and lifting his hand, dragging his thumb across his sharp cheekbone.  “I’m not against it or making excuses, Cas.”  He whispered.  I just don’t know how to drive this car. 

He watched the former angel lean into his palm and felt a sudden surge of warmth.  He remembered back to when he thought Cas dead, burned with the others.  How it felt not knowing, having to think that they spent their last days fighting.  When he realized where Cas was for all that time, he was so fucking angry at the guy.  Then the cherry on the cake, his bullshit tirade, asking to be tossed aside like this week’s garbage all because he was human.

If Dean was honest with himself he’d admit that it had ripped out from under Dean all he thought firmly established between them.  Cas really thought he could kill him?  After everything, after Purgatory, he thought this would his last chance? 

Then it had hit Dean like a mac-truck and it all made sense, Cas was mourning Castiel –the angel of the lord, the connection to his brothers.  Betrayal and banishment had happened to him before, but it never seemed so final, and it was never by his own hand.  So Castiel lashed out like Castiel would lash out, at himself; practically asking Dean to off him.  It infuriated him, how this ignorant little son of an absent father could think that he was nothing.  That he could forget what role he played in their rag-tag family.  So Dean reminded him in that hallway.

He wasn’t prepared for the repercussions of his declarations.  It was the knockout punch from his blind side, the kiss that changed everything.

The rough jaw tickled his palm and he clenched his hand around the warm cheek. Cas' breath caught and he opened his eyes.  Holding his gaze, Dean begged with his eyes to allow his actions to tell Cas what his words couldn’t.  He slid his hand from his cheek around the back of his head and pulled the soft dark hair between his fingers, watching as the blue eyes drooped closed with pleasure.  The following moan shot through Dean, but it was the murmured, “I want…” that propelled Dean into motion.

Only inches between them and Dean was the one to close the space.  His own chaste kiss brushing his lips against slightly open ones. Cas tensed but recovered quickly, bringing his own hand up to trap Dean in place.

It almost overwhelmed Dean, he opened his mouth and allowed Cas to slide their tongues together.  Heat rushed through him and Dean knew it had never been like this before, furious yet tentative. Dean wanted to kiss away all their unease.  A possessiveness Dean often tried to keep at bay with "his angel" took over.

He pulled the man to him by his trench coat, colliding their bodies until they were as desperate as they had been in the clinic, back when Dean went temporarily insane and decided to stop them because of responsibility.

He had no reason to stop them now and by the strength of Cas' hand in his hair, arm tight around his back, made him think Cas wouldn’t let him go anyway.  Dean gasped at the thought and pulled the man closer.  He wanted to lie down, lie Cas down under him or over him or anything. He just needed more contact, more control.

He eyed Gabriel's make shift bed in the alcove, cluttered with candy wrappers and magazines that looked suspiciously like porn and immediately disregarded it.  Over Cas' shoulder he considered Charlie’s workspace as Cas trailed soft bites down his neck but feared her angry wrath. None of it would do.

"Follow me." Dean demanded, breaking them apart. Cas' face was flushed and he was struggling to catch his breath but he followed without a word.

Dean considered taking them to the couch in the library, wanting to make sure things didn’t go too fast since they were both venturing into new ground, but they had to walk pass the infamous hallway and couldn’t resist the temptation of both their bedrooms.  They ended up in his room, door closed behind them and Cas pounced.

“I'm not going to give you a moment’s reconsideration this time."  He said with a growl.

Dean smirked and stripped his shirt off, wanting this just as much.  “No worries there."

He stood under Cas' gaze as he drank in the new skin.  "You are very beautiful, Dean."

Dean wasn’t expecting the breathy compliment, blushing a deep red that spread to his chest.  "Uh, thanks."

Cas walked forward and reached out hesitantly.  "May I?"

Dean shrugged and nodded, standing awkwardly as Cas dragged his hand across his chest, brushing the thin hair. It tickled but Dean remained still allowing Cas to indulge in his curiosity. He trailed a finger around his nipple, making Dean shudder but he stood as still he could, wanting to give this to Cas. 

"I've been familiar with the intimate aspects of humanity for centuries but I've never-"

"It’s okay,  Cas." Dean interrupted.  "Just do what you feel. "

"Feel..." He echoed. "I feel so much Dean."

"Welcome to humanity." Dean whispered. "Here, I'll help." He pulled his pants off before he lost his nerve, standing in front of the other man in only his boxers. 

Holy shit, there’s no turning back now.  But he didn't even want too. Instead he stepped back to the bed and laid back on his elbows, body splayed back and only his boxer-briefs restraining him.

"So this is copulating." Cas stated.

"Almost." Dean laughed softly into the space between them. "You're wearing too many clothes."

Castiel looked down at his body stripped fast, as if he hadn't realized he was still fully clothed. When he was down to his boxers he clambered into the bed, propelled by enthusiasm

Dean caught him with a laugh.  "I'm not going anywhere.”

Cas' eyes darkened and he slid his hands down Dean’s toned arms, reaching for his wrists.  He grasped them firmly and slowly brought Dean's arm above his head, holding them there with a fixed pressure.  "No, you're not."

Dean felt a thrill of terrified desire, the adrenaline of not knowing what Cas was capable of like this, when he had always been so driven, dedicated, fierce and sometimes even a little evil, in everything else he did.  Now he had Dean pinned underneath him and all Dean could do was hold his breath.

Cas kissed him deeply and Dean had to squirm his hands free to slide them down the man's back.  He paused at the elastic of his boxers before boldly continuing, causing the other man to tear free from their kiss and meet Dean with a pupils blown.  When Dean squeezed the firm cheeks Cas buckled forward, dragging their entire frames together.  Not to be out done, Cas grabbed Dean’s hips, holding their cocks together.

Dean swore.  "Fuck."  

Cas nodded his head fiercely into Dean's neck as if it curse was a question and Dean suddenly needed more control.  Wanted Cas to either rub faster or let him do it for them.  He feverishly decided it was time to spin the other man around and give them the pressure they were both panting for and then Castiel was under him.  His lips glistened from Dean’s own, slightly pulled apart to let out sharp breaths. He caught a brief glimpse of pink tongue and a shiver ran through his spine.

When he returned to Cas’ mouth, it wasn’t with the frantic clutches of before, but softer and more considering.  Dean felt the stubble of the other man’s chin, his hard thigh between Dean’s legs dragging up and down with their rhythm.  He broke off and began his trail downward, softly biting until he reached Cas’ tented boxers.

The former angel was staring at the ceiling when he lifted the elastic and lowered his mouth onto the waiting skin.  Cas’ mewled.  There was no other word for it, his back left the bed and he was overwhelmed with sensation. 

Dean started to pull away but Cas’ arm shot off the bed and into Dean’s hair, the strength from before returning and it went straight to Dean’s groin.  “Dean Winchester, don’t you dare stop.”

Following the order, Dean returned his mouth to Cas.  The man moaned deeply and Dean continued with a tortuously slow pace, easing Cas into what he figured was his first blowjob.  The fact tore through Dean, that he was introducing Cas to this world. Dean had to count to ten before he ended this whole party early on the thought alone.

Cas gasped when Dean picked up the pace and he started reaching for Dean’s shoulders, head, anything to connect their skin.  He also started rocking his hips into Dean’s mouth, something he figured was probably frowned upon between new partners, but was something the former angel couldn’t bother to suppress.  Dean moaned around him, surprised at how hard the little thrusts were making him.

“Dean, I can’t – ” was the only warning Dean got before he felt Cas explode down his throat.  He assumed Cas would collapse after that and Dean would use the images and feeling of Cas losing control to push him over.  But of course, Cas surprised him by pushing from the bed with an enthusiasm that seemed impossible after such an epic orgasm.  It poked at Dean’s pride for half a second that Cas wasn’t more worn out, until he felt him lie on his side, a calloused hand closing around him. 

“Is this good Dean?” He squeezed harder.  “Like this?”  The urgent whispers filtered through Dean’s sex-addled mind and he almost wished they hadn’t.  The innocent question, those sincere blue eyes, was all it took for Dean to spill all over Cas’ hand.

When he recovered, he opened his eyes to meet blue.  Cas’ perched up on his elbow, his hand softly trailing across Dean’s chest.  Dean smiled flushed and sated, “Yes Cas, just like that. Perfect." Before falling into an exhausted sleep.

....

They were sitting in the kitchen in matching, white, Men of Letters bathrobes Dean had found in the linen closet.  Dean had made them some sandwiches and having already finished, leant back to watch with amusement as Cas scarfed down two more. 

“Does sex always make human’s so hungry, Dean?”  He asked, mouth full.

Dean looked at him skeptically.  “I don’t think you can blame that quirk on humanity as a whole, that one’s just you.”

Cas pinned him with an evil glare and Dean laughed.  Their playful ease made him revel in the moment, recognizing that he was here with his friend, both of them alive and, even more shockingly, both of them happy.  Dean strained to think of the last time they were at ease and struggled to find a memory. 

“What is it Dean?” Cas asked, noticing his the weight of Dean’s thoughts.

He felt the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile. “Nothing, Cas. I’m just soaking in the good times.”

His table companion must have had different ideas about where Dean’s mind should be, he felt Cas’ bare foot trail up the side of his leg.

Dean stiffened at the contact, not yet used to the freedom they had to touch.  He liked it though, and opened his legs to give Cas’ more room. When the other man’s eyes darkened, Dean was doing inner cheers at the fact that they were very much in a honeymoon phase.  He wanted Cas to finish his sandwich so he could take him back to that Hallway and take him up against the wall before the others get back.

Cas was on his last bite and Dean was starting to push back from the table, when several things happened at once.  Their cell phones rang in unison, the Bunker alarms blared and a very blue, very scaled, Sam Winchester walked into the kitchen.

He was scratching his head tiredly, like he just woke up and shuffled to the fridge.  

“Hey guys.” He managed, noticing Dean and Cas at the table. “Where are the others? And what happened at the trial? I can’t seem to remember anything much past Kevin stopping the execution.”

Cas and Dean sat, frozen.

“What?”

Silence.

“Come on guys, you’re starting to scare me.  This isn’t funny.” He paused, finally taking in their clothing...or lack there of, “and what are you two wearing?”

Dean recovered first, grabbing his brother’s hand and keeping his own panic at simmering levels. At least he was breathing. Sure his face was entirely scaled blue and extended down his neck and under his shirt.  It faded back to normal human flesh midway down his arms but Dean couldn’t for the life of him tell if it was spreading or retreating or staying in place.

When they stopped in front of the bathroom door Dean turned to Sam.  “Look, it could be worse. You could be dead.” And thinking he wouldn’t get a better opportunity to drop the bomb and having it brushed off, he added. “And Cas and I did it. That’s why we’re in robes.”

He pushed Sam into the room and only had to wait a second before he was running back out. “I’m blue!”

“Looks like it.”

“What the fuck.”

Castiel joined them then, walking directly into Sam’s personal space and started poking at the scales on his neck.

“Hey!” Sam and Dean both shouted but Dean didn’t think his brother’s yell had anything to do with the onslaught of surprisingly jealousy at seeing Cas near anyone else, even if it was his brother. His brother that was blue.  Perspective, Dean.

“I knew those trials were changing you, but this is most unusual.”

“I thought we derailed from the trials when I stopped injecting Crowley with my blood.”  Sam reminded, crossing his half scaled arms across his chest.

“It must have continued and completed when Crowley threw himself on the angel blade.” Castiel thought aloud. “But this is most unusual – ”

“You think!” Dean interrupted.

“But you were supposed to be dead, according to Naomi.  Not transformed.”

“Transformed into what?”  Sam asked, running a panicked hand through his not blue hair.

Castiel looked closer to the scales, peeling off one connected to his neck. Underneath it was flesh colored.  “I think you are molting, Sam.”

“I’m shedding?”  He cried.  “How long was I even out?”

“Almost a day.” Dean answered.

“And you guys didn’t see me turn completely blue and then start shedding some time during that day?”  Sam spat.

“We, uh, hadn’t been down there for a couple hours now.  It’s almost 3am.”  Dean blushed and Cas coughed.

Sam stared at both of them and Dean’s blurted confession from earlier finally registered. Sam’s face twisted with disgust, “Ugh no, I don’t even want to know. Stop. Right now.”

Dean threw his arms up in defense.  “Hey I wasn’t offering up anything.”

“Ugh, and you’re standing there in those robes. Please tell me you’re wearing something under that!”

Cas started shaking his head but Sam cut him off, “No never mind, just go. I’m going to start researching.  Cas you put some freaking clothes on and come tell me everything you know about this transformation process.”

Dean’s phone rang and he walked off as the other two continued making plans and started taking samples of Sam’s scales.  Dean read through the text message.  Short and sweet but completely confusing:

 

> Went through the Axis Mundi, met Bobby and Ash.
> 
> They say hi.
> 
> Also they were the ones sending the visions.
> 
> We’re coming back with Anna now.
> 
> Laying siege on Heaven? TBD

                        -Kevin. 


	10. A Conference of Trials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have moar! :)  
> As always, thank you for reading and commenting.

“He’s blue.”  Castiel did not understand why Dean thought he needed a reminder, but his tone had turned fervent and the way the man grasped his upper arm, stopping him from leaving the room, spoke of the changes formed by their recent familiarity.  Dean was leaning on him. 

But they were also so close and he was finding it challenging to focus, difficult to look past the beauty and see the beseeching in Dean’s green eyes. 

He managed.  “We can figure this out.”

They had almost made it out of the bedroom, sent there to change out of the large cloth robes because Sam threatened to find a spell for rendering himself temporarily blind.  So Castiel begrudgingly removed the comfortable garment and returned to his trench coat quickly, intent on returning to the library and helping Sam.  Return to where it would be harder to focus on his memories from earlier.  A trill of arousal sparked through him just thinking of Dean’s mouth.  

He tried to retain control then as he tried to retain control now.  Only it was hard, with Dean grasping him at the doorway.  He tried not to look at the bed and failed miserably.  It was there, in the center of the room, sheets slung about and he wondered idly that if he was still an angel, if he would smell their combined scents.

Dean made an ugly sound of sarcasm breaking him from his distracting reverie.  “Fix this just like everything else, right?  Kevin, Charlie and more of your pleasant siblings are on their way here with news from _Bobby_!  Sam may not even be human anymore!  And you’re there telling me we still have the ability to fix this?”

He eyed Dean and stated with forced calmness, “Yes.”

“Where did this blind optimism come from, Cas?  Cause it’s starting to freak me out, this is just too much.  I knew the trials were hard on Sam but I thought we ended it before it got to all the deadly parts.”  Frustration poured from Dean and it centered Castiel's focus away from yearning feelings and towards helping this man.

Castiel brought his hand to the firm muscle of Dean’s upper arm, mirroring the other man’s grasp.  “He is alive, soul intact, and no one made a deal with hell.”

“Yea, who knows what deal’s been made.  These trials seem to have all sorts of unexpected consequences.”

Castiel rubbed his hand along the arm in a way he saw humans do when they tried to impart reassurance.  “The others are on their way and with them more information than one cryptic textual message can provide.  We should go join Sam in the library.  We will not know anything until we investigate.”

Dean dropped his arm but remained close.  It was difficult for Castiel now that silence entered the space between them.  He could lie comforting lies for Dean, help him through this panic.  But he was useless when the words ended and the memory of skin against skin flooded through him, just from standing too close. 

What did he do now?  Would the open intimacies of before cease with Sam waking, or are they only overshadowed by the enormity of the situation, of a blue Sam and visions sent by humans in Heaven?

He felt Dean’s hand on his jaw, dragging his fingers along his skin until he reached his chin, the calloused tips leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.  Dean lifted his eyes to meet green and Cas watched a faint blush bring out his freckles, “Look, I know you are only trying to help so, uh, thank you.” 

Castiel wondered if his human form blushed with its own warmth but he did not have a chance to ask because Dean pulled their lips together softly and Castiel froze with surprise instead.  He was not expecting Dean’s affections to be so spontaneous.

Dean smirked against his lips in response, pulling Castiel towards his firm chest.  It made Castiel growl and deepen their kiss, grabbing the back of Dean’s neck and lifting his toes to even their height.  He claimed Dean’s lips with abandon, teasing their tongues together, and the feelings of before rushed forward so easily. 

His enthusiasm made Dean moan then chuckle and, unfortunately, break their connection with heaving breaths.  “Whoa there, Cas.  I’m trying to get out of the room without throwing you back on that bed.”

It infuriated Castiel that despite being a former soldier for heaven’s army, Dean remained the one with the most self-control.  The centuries of service left him unprepared for the addictive pleasures of humanity.  He stepped back with his own heavy breaths and composed himself with a shake of his head.  Their time of peace had come and gone; now it was time for work.  “It is fortunate that we decided to, how was it you put it?  Soak in the ‘good times.’”

Dean laughed, putting an arm around his shoulder and blinding him with a smile, before leading them out of the room.  “I don’t know Cas, despite the blue brother and impending war on heaven, these times don’t look so bad from where I’m standing.”

…

When the others arrived, Castiel’s head was aching and his eyes blurred.  After reviewing over forty books, he understood why Dean left to the kitchen in exasperation almost an hour ago.

The other’s came in with a roar of excitement, their loud voices ricocheting off the marble only adding to his growing headache.  If this was a common infliction for humanity, he now understood why they often snapped at him.   

“I do not know what I’m meant to find, Sam.”  Castiel insisted as the commotion in the entryway evened out as everyone settled back into the Bunker.  With his eye pressed against the microscope, he reminded Sam, “I had no use for these gadgets as an angel.”

Sam gestured to the sample in the microscope, obviously unnerved.  “Well, you said I was transforming, right?  Into what?  Is this part of that?” 

“It must be, right?”  Dean added as he walked into the room with the others following.  “What in hell else could it be?”

“Let’s not challenge hell into throwing another variable into this dilemma, Dean.”  Castiel chided.

“I’m pretty sure hells focused on finding a new head of state, not messing with the Winchesters.”  Dean retorted.

Castiel lifted his eye from the microscope to raise an eyebrow at the man. “I believe it was you who taught me the concept of a ‘jinx’ over a late night of bourbon.”

Sam looked between them and groaned from his place across the table.  “Oh god.  Please don’t flirt in front of me.”

“Please do.”  Gabriel smiled, pulling chocolate out of his pocket.

“I’m not complaining.”  The girl agreed.  No, Charlie, he assured her he would start using her Christian name after learning that referring to someone as “the girl” was apparently impolite.  

He did not get a chance to comment on their exchange, however, because the others finally noticed Sam.

“You’re blue!”  The Prophet exclaimed with a dropped jaw.

Sam huffed, ignoring his shock and turning back to Castiel. “ Can we please focus on the reason that I have scales?” 

By the door Gabriel nudged Dean’s shoulder, “I thought told you to holler if anything changed with the Tall One.”

“Look Gabriel, in case you haven’t noticed things got a little distracting!”  Dean gestured at his brother.  “We’re trying to find out what caused this.”

The Prophet walked over to the books on the table, scanning over a few pages.  “It could be connected to the visions.” 

Castiel watched the younger Winchester cross over to the shelves near the makeshift science lab, looking at his reflection in the glass bookcase housing the Men of Letter’s most precious volumes.  He could see the desperateness in Sam’s eyes through the reflection and remembered his own recent memory of the unique powerlessness one felt when the world shifts around them.  He continued with the limited information he possessed.  “Before, it was like your soul was tinted.  The human soul is usually a bright color, something that would look to your eye as yellow or orange.  But towards the end, before the Fall, it was like the trials had tinted it blue.”

“Is there anything in the catalogue that hints about tinted souls and scaley results?”  Gabriel asked.

“It’s not that easy.  The Men of Letter’s didn’t exactly have a control-F function.”  Dean retorted with frustration.

“Well I’m pretty sure staring at your new mug isn’t going to help much either.”  Charlie reminded logically, walking over to the library catalogue.  It was huge, easily three large books sewn into one.  “It looks like these are at least in categories.  I guess I’ll start with diseases, Sam you take transformations and Dean, what about…” she flipped through the pages. 

Castiel pushed away from the microscope.  “No.”  He did not mean for his own deep voice to carry though the room commanding their attention, regardless they all immediately fixed on him.  “It occurred simultaneously with Crowley’s suicide.  That leads me to infer that it is most likely related to the trials. This is the change the trials warned of. I remembered when I last saw Sam through eyes connected to the Host and Heaven, he had changed significantly because of the trials.  Information about this change could be found within Sam’s own experience." He turned to look at Sam, hoping that he was as correct as his speech made it seem. "Sam would please, explain to us your path along these trials?”

…

Partway through the story, after Sam finished explaining to everyone how he killed the Hell Hound, Dean left the room without a word.  Castiel knew Dean well enough to understand the simple fact of Dean: he blamed himself for Sam’s ordeal. 

Castiel wanted to follow him but hoped a clue would emerge from this tale and that was the goal here – not comforting his friend temporarily.  Only solving this mystery would help him permanently.

“So, it was after killing the Hell Hound that the change began?”  Anna asked, perched on the side of the table they all gathered around.  Sam on Castiel’s left, at the head of the table and Gabriel and Charlie both against the walls at opposite ends of the room.

“Yes,” Sam answered.  “But that wasn’t the real goal of the first trial.  It was to bathe in the blood of the hell hound.”

“Get Hell’s goo all over you.”  Gabriel dramatically shivered.  “Though, it makes sense to bathe in Hell smells before you traveled down there to pick up a soul.”

“A soul you then had to take to Heaven.  Not through any simple means either, but by absorbing the soul into your own skin.”  Castiel said.

“And then your blood could purify.”  Gabriel summed up.  “It’s pretty obvious what happened to Sam.”

Castiel and Anna nodded.

Dean reentered the room, standing next to Sam.  They both crossed their arms, identical expressions of aggravated impatience.  “Well would you angels like to share with the class?”  Dean prompted.

“Your soul was blue, like a soul heading to Heaven.”  Castiel began.

“And now you’ve turned blue.”  Gabriel cut in, as if anyone needed a reminder.

“The trials have transformed your soul into one that can access all planes of existence.”  Castiel stated succinctly, talking over Gabriel’s sarcasm.

“Oooh.”  Sam lengthened the word but Castiel could tell he was still incredibly confused.

“We believe you transformed into a being that can travel through hell, earth and heaven, since, well, a part of you has absorbed the essence of each plane.  This ability manifested in a change to your corporal body.”  Anna concluded, walking over to Sam and circling him as if he was a unique specimen and not Sam Winchester, diverter of the apocalypse, friend.  Castiel tried to relax and remember she was not interested in ending his life anymore.  Well, at least he was almost certain he was not. 

 “But, without dying?”  Dean’s asked, voice was firm on this point.  “Dying is not on the table.”

“Look.  Is it really that hard to believe?” Charlie asked softly, as if she was unsure if her opinion would be included in the bombardment of former angels.  She shrugged, “Those rogue reapers opened a door for Sam once.  Now you get to have the cool super powers.”

“This is still a theory.”  Sam reminded.  “How can we test it?”

“We can try and see if Bobby and Ash will open a portal.”  The Prophet offered.

“Bobby and Ash.”  Dean grumbled.  “To think those two are still kicking up trouble.”  He said it with annoyance but Castiel could hear the hint of happiness it masked.

“Can they just open one up?  It’d be great to, you know, see them again.”  Sam asked hopefully.

“And find out if you can really walk to Heaven.”  Anna reminded him of the goal.  “It would be most useful if we do confront Metatron.”

“That still does not solve the dilemma of getting a portal open.  Prayers will make it to Bobby and Ash in human heaven.”  Castiel stated as he watched Charlie walk over to the reference book, flipping through the pages.

“We can always wait till they send me another vision and then I can ask if they can cue Sam in too.”  The Prophet suggested.

“Do we know when that will be?”  Anna asked.

“Hey guys –” Charlie began.

“They’ve been coming pretty frequently.”  Kevin answered.

“Guys –” Charlie cried a bit louder.

“As long as him going through this portal doesn’t equal sudden death.”  Dean mumbled.

“Appendix 36 – Opening Portals to Heaven and Hell.”  Charlie yelled over the others, finally gaining their attention.  She gathered what looked to be over a hundred pages in her hand.  “I think we have plenty of options here.”


	11. A Matter of Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting towards the homestretch! Thanks for sticking around :)

With one problem on its way to a solution another emerged, Anna needed a room.  The Winchester’s were so above capacity that the roof was starting to look like an option for their ragtag orphans.  Top it off, the former angels didn’t need much sleep but for Dean, that just made the matter worse.  With his brother in dire straits and things with Cas _developing_ , he just needed each of them to have a space that was theirs…if only to get them out of his hair.

Castiel was the one to offer his room after they finished their pow-wow of revelations.  Apparently, Anna hadn’t slept in 4 days and that was the final straw for the new human. 

It left Castiel conveniently without a room.

“I could have leant her my bed.”  Dean said when they were standing in his room trying to adjust to this new normal.

Castiel lifted an eyebrow in response.  “Forgive me if, given your past with Anna and our recent coupling, I prefer to keep her away from your bedroom.”

It took Dean half a second to recall his own history with the redhead.  Their backseat tryst fading into his memories of one night stands.  When it registered, he quickly turned to the other man, eyes twinkling, “Ooh, you have a jealous streak?  I can’t say I’m not flattered that you’re getting all possessive Cas…and by flattered I mean horny.”   

Castiel pushed from his casual lean against the doorframe and walked to Dean, eyes zeroing in. “Yes.”  He clipped.  “I do in fact have a ‘jealous streak’.  I may have been an angel but I will not share.”

Heat flooded Dean and he wrapped an arm around Castiel’s waist, teasing his fingers along the hem of his shirt.  He looked at Cas with a wolfish grin.  “Ok.”

Castiel leaned in and closed the inches between them.  Dean felt his low voice vibrate down his chest when he responded with a soft, “Ok.”

And that’s how Dean and Castiel ended up sharing a room.

…

The scientific experiment entitled, ‘Get Sam to Heaven’ began early the next morning.  Throughout the night Cas and Gabriel spent their endless supply of useful knowledge of, well, everything, to pick a spell for Sam’s journey.

“So the wall will rip apart and I just fall through it?”  Skepticism oozed from Sam’s question.  His voice still rough from sleep as the three of them sat around the kitchen table, nursing cups of coffee.  “I’ve seen this one before, a few times actually.  Once it ended with me in a cage with the devil and the other time you absorbed all of Purgatory.”

Castiel squirmed at the memory but assured Sam, “It will be different this time.” 

“Because I’m blue?”

“Because your body is equipped to control the trip.” 

“Right…”

“Are you sure about this Cas?”  Dean broke in, asking the same question he’d been asking all along.  It didn’t seem like anyone else gave two shits if this all backfired, even Sammy.  Sure, he was cautious and curious but Dean felt like he alone realized that this might end up a permanent trip for his baby bro.

Castiel shot him a slightly wounded look and Dean dropped his eyes to his coffee.  “Do you believe I would be careless regarding your brother, my friend?”

Dean had to admit he had a point but still, “I hate to say this man, but your best intentions haven’t always turned out so great so pardon me if I’m overly cautious.”

Cas’ jaw snapped shut and he looked away.  Guilt started to seep through Dean but he pushed it aside. This thing between them would not interfere with rational planning.

“It will be okay, Dean.”  Sam said, pulling him from Cas, but Dean could hear the waver in his confidence.  “The Men of Letters said this spell was specifically for people with the ability to cross the planes of existence.  I don’t think it will even work for me if I don’t qualify.”

Dean plucked at his sleeve.  They had all made up their minds; he was the only one standing in the way like a worried hen.  “Whatever.  Let’s just do this.”

“It is a simple spell.  Come.”  Castiel led them to the library where a large tome waited for them in the middle of the table.  Before anyone could say another word, Castiel crossed over, carefully opening the old book to a marked page and began.

_Aperite, aperite_

_Aperite portas victori_

Dean heard a sizzle over the deep timbre of Castiel’s chanting.  Across the room, the marble began to melt, beige stone liquefying and pouring over the floor.  Around them, the lights started flickering and he ducked as the ones closest to the wall shrieked and shattered. 

_Victor in caelo, infernum et terrae_

_Aperite, aperite_

Cas continued reading the lines of the page calmly as if failed to notice the effect of his chanting.  A light to his left shattered, and the former angel didn’t even flinch as a piece of glass cut through the arm of the trench coat.  "Cas!" Dean yelled but he could have been screaming at a statue.

_Per ambulet. Ingreditor._

_Aperite, aperite_

The wall was nearly gone, leaving nothing in its place but darkness.

_Et acceptare”_

He slammed the tome closed, lifting his bright eyes from its pages he said with a dramatic finality that was completely natural to the new human, "It is done."

Sam took two resolved steps forward, with only a half glance back.  One eye focused on Dean, the other lost to the abyss of whatever.  “I’ll send my regards for you.”

There wasn’t any time to stop him, if he was even going too.  His baby brother always seemed one-step ahead when it came to making hard decisions.  As he walked away, hands in pockets and hair covering his neck, he barely looked transformed.  Dean wondered if this was really going to help them or if it was just him watching his brother walk calmly into the face of death.

When Sam’s figure disappeared into darkness, the dripping wall froze in its flow and rewound its dissent down the wall like an old video tape, slowly forming the marble division between the library and the War Room.

Sammy was gone and with that fact, the familiar hole of loss and powerless state of mind.  It was always hardest to take the first step without him.

Then, a hand in his, warm, strong, and pulling him close to a solid frame.  Castiel was silent, watching the portal close in around his brother.  “Come on.”  Then a tugging feeling, guiding him out of the room.  Unsure of where Cas was taking him he followed blindly, trying not to think of Sam beyond his protection. 

They were in the hallway.  He could tell because the marble floor of the rest of the bunker turned into comforting wooden floors and bedrooms with lush carpets.  They were all empty, everyone else occupying other areas of the Bunker – staying away from the room where his brother was going to test out option #43: The Hallway to Heaven.

They stopped in front of his door and he felt a warm hand pulling his eyes from wood to blue; the dark deep color of his cursed brother but also of this - of Cas.  “Dean, are you all right?”

He started shaking his head in response.  All right?  What did that stupid phrase mean anyway?  And how did it apply to watching his brother walk through a black hole of nothingness. 

But Sam had faced down worse.  Right?  The devil was a hard piece too match up again, evil wise.  The Leviathans weren’t a peach either, when it came to strength.  So maybe they were, if not ‘all right’, at least handling the situation.

Dean realized they were standing outside his - their - bedroom door.  Castiel searching for something in his eyes that would ensure him that he was doing the right thing bringing them here, that Dean wasn't still back in the room watching Sam walk towards his death.

Because even if Sam could control the trip, it didn’t change the fact that he was still taking the journey in the first place.

But they were fine, because they were the Winchesters. 

He nodded to those worrying blue eyes and, still facing the man, reached back and opened the door.  He stepped back to allow Cas to enter and tried to regain his equilibrium.

He was fine, Sam was fine, and he would gain control over the situation because this was just any other recon mission.

Castiel looked at him through his long lashes, suspicion in his eyes.  “You do not need a façade with me.  I am concerned as well.”

The tension of it all, his brother gone again, the gates of Heaven and Hell still open, this human angel standing in front of him - it all grew like stones in his shoulders, weighing him down and forcing him to hunch over when he sat at the side of the bed.  When he spoke, his words strained like the rest of him.  “And you also know what's done is done.”

With a few steps, Castiel's shadow appeared over him and he felt a tentative hand caressing the top of his head.  The slow moving fingers combing through his hair felt unsure even now, maybe especially now, as if wondering if the touch was welcome.

"Let me help you Dean."

The hand moved down along his arm as Cas moved to sit next to him on the bed.  By the time his weight on the mattress curved their bodies together, their hands were entwined.

"I cannot bring you certainty or assurances that Sam is well.”  His fingers traced the veins on Dean's hand as he spoke, both of their eyes following the movement.  “But I can comfort you, if you let me."

Cas looked up at Dean through thick lashes and his breath caught.  Instead of the timid gaze he was expecting, the eyes simmered with heat, affection and an undercurrent of stubbornness. 

“Yea,” He rasped into the narrow space between them, “I'd like that."

Gently, Castiel pushed Dean onto the mattress.  He peppered tiny kisses along Dean's lips and growled softly before biting the bottom one.  "I can be here for you."

Dean moaned and arched into the warm thigh Castiel was dragging along him.  He whimpered when the sound made the other man pull away, a sound he would deny ever making,  but Cas only chuckled softly and shifted his weight to press their hardening lengths together. "I can make you feel good."

Dean sucked a breath.  "God, Cas. So good."

He felt curious fingers squeeze under pants, beyond the boxers, to start caressing the crease that separates them.  "I want you to feel me everywhere."  The deep voice in his ear shot like a spark down his spine.  He nodded fiercely and couldn't help thrusting forward again.

Castiel went to work divesting him of his clothing.  Within moments, he was lying under assessing eyes as they considered the best way to take from Dean all that he wanted. He flushed under the gaze, reaching up to force him into motion. "Come on, Cas."

"Get on your side." His voice had lowered octaves and the sound practically dragged along his cock.  Dean didn't hesitate for a moment and  as soon as he turned those curious fingers were back, wrapping around him, holding his body to Cas' chest with only a hand on his cock.  The fingers didn't stay there long, soon finding their way back around, teasing him apart. 

"Fuck, Cas.”  He gasped, "Lube.  Nightstand."

Hands left him.  It was only for a moment but his skin was so hot and he needed Cas there, now.  When the finger returned, he instinctively rolled his hips to meet it and they both gasped when it entered.  The stretch was unfamiliar but warm and brought him alive with new sensation.  Castiel's tiny finger worked him from the inside and he grasped onto the arm that was around his waist, steadying him.

He was soon able to fit two long fingers.  "I think this would be best to stretch you," Castiel explained breathlessly, "before I attempt to enter more."

Through the haze of pleasure peaking with every scissor of Cas' fingers, Dean laughed. "Thanks for the," moaning, because  Cas took the opportunity to add another digit, "commentary.  Feels," gasping, when he tried turning his fingers, "fantastic to -"

But suddenly all his words evaporated.  Castiel bent his fingers in such a way that they pressed along a nub deep inside him that he didn't know could feel so, damn, good.  His body seized in Cas' arms but the fingers just continued to rub.  He couldn't help it, he pressed back into it.  Cas pressing harder, him meeting with every thrust of his hips, and with every press and thrust he felt the quick build of his orgasm from deep inside.  The arm around him tightened, pulling his body back hard, and that was all it took, light burst behind closed eyes and he came without a stroke to his cock. 

They both clasped to each other, arms overlapped on Dean's chest, Cas nuzzling his cheek over Dean's ear.  He bit the lobe and caused a shiver to run down Dean's neck. 

"Please feel free to feel me 'everywhere' anytime you like."

A deep and exhausted chuckle rumbled from behind him.  “Ok.”

...

They took turns discovering each other's skin, allowing curious fingers to wander, lips to tease and tongues to taste.  By the time they laid spent with exhausted in each other's arms Dean only had time to wonder what time it was before passing completely out.  It was a successful distraction, among other things.

It could have been all night or just hours when a banging on the door knocked them awake.

The muffle of black hair next to him groaned to life.  "Will this be how we are awoken every time we sleep in the same room?  If so, I may have to reconsider my options."

Dean laughed and tightened his arm around Castiel's waist, tugging him closer to his side and breathing in his fresh musky scent.  "You ain't going anywhere."

An eyebrow atop closed eyes arched and Dean had a sudden urge to bite that he gave into it.  Castiel laughed and he would have loved to push him back and continue biting, but the sounds of knocking  persisted.  "We're awake!  Will you quit it?"

"Uh, sorry to interrupt.”  Kevin began awkwardly, "Another vision."

Dean rolled over and looked at the ceiling, trying to adjust to being awake and aware.  It was difficult when Cas rolled with him, nuzzling into his bare chest in his determination to fall back asleep. 

"Who'd they show you this time?" 

"They didn't show me anyone new.  It was Ash and Bobby and Sam.  Kind of an "I made it safely phone call"...only in my head."

The news finally stirred Cas awake and he beamed a smile at Dean.  "I told you."

"What?”  Dean snorted.  "You told me you had no 'certainty or assurances' after letting him walk through that damn thing!"

Cas sighed as if he was simply dealing with inferior humans and not actually one of them.  "I told you his transformation gave him the power to control the trip, let him decide where he would end up once he crossed over.  I would offer no certainty or assurances if you asked me whether you would be entirely safe taking a shower."

"Heh.  Been there, done that."

"What?"

Dean waved his hand aimlessly.  "It was pre-you."

Castiel scowled.  "There was no pre-me in your life Dean, I out-date you by centuries."

"Whatever.”  He pushed back the covers, forcing them to meet the day.  "You know what I mean.  It was back when Gabriel killed me a bunch.”  Castiel eyed him from the bed as he pulled on his boxers and t-shirt.  "Enjoying the show?"

The side of Castiel's smirk lifted.  "Maybe.  But I'm more wondering why I failed to smite Gabriel when I first laid my eyes on him."

Dean softly smacked the side of Castiel's bare leg, prompting him off the bed.  "Uh, cause he would have killed you.  Remember, archangel?"

The man finally moved from the bed, shuffling over to his clothes as he grumbled to himself.  Dean watched him, amused, and thought he wouldn't mind starting each day like this.

...

An hour later found them in the War Room again.  Kevin sat across from Dean at the head of the table, volleying questions he had no clue how to answer.

"They just said that the plan was to get everyone into human heaven and then we'd use the backdoor Ash developed into angel heaven."

"And there was no hint on _how_ to get us there?”  Of course this was their plan.  We'll sit up here while you do all the work. 

"Well apparently they'll be able to get me up there through the visions, and probably Anna too - since a part of her essence, or whatever, ended up there when she died in the barn."

Charlie was sitting next to Dean and from the corner of his eye he caught her counting, assessing.  "Eight v. One seems like a bit overkill, guys.  Why don't the people that are capable of going just take on Metatron himself?  From what I hear he's some sloth-like aged man."

"We don't know what his powers will be in heaven.”  Dean reminded.

"Especially with us all being human.”  Gabriel added, eying Charlie. "Wouldn't be trying to get out of all the hard work, would you Princess?"

Charlie glared back.  "I'm just pointing out facts.  It can't be too easy to transcend four humans to heaven safely, even if two of them are former angels.  I'd rather not die today, thank you."

Despite feeling slightly ticked that the planning fell to them, he had to admit that it might not be that difficult.  "Sam and I have done this a surprisingly large amount of times.”  He dragged a finger across his jaw, thinking of options.  “What would really be helpful is Death's ring."

From across the table Kevin looked at him as if he was questioning Dean’s sanity.

"What?”  Dean asked, confused.  "It's a stable way of crossing over that doesn't require astral projection."

Kevin’s pained expression only deepens.  "You spout the most ridiculous sentences sometimes.  So why can't we use this ring?"

"Because it, along with the other Horsemen's Rings, opened Lucifer's Cage and trapped the Devil in Sam's body.”  Gabriel supplied, turning to Castiel and Anna he muttered, “I can't believe they aren't teaching these things in their schools yet."

“Right.”  Charlie interrupted, pulling them back on track, "You said there was another way, this astral projection."

Even after seeing Pamela at the Roadhouse in Heaven, it was still difficult to talk about.  It inevitably led Dean to think about Jo, Ellen and everything that was lost due to the catastrophic hissy fit of one fallen angel.  He pushed it all down, behind even his worry for Sam, to explain the possible avenue to heaven.

“Someone would need to stay behind.”  Anna pointed out after Dean finished.

Gabriel looked doubtful.  “Even if it does get a few of us to pass over, we don’t know if it will be able to get us to heaven.”

“Or if we will be able to concentrate enough to even attack as ghosts.”  Dean finished for him.  “I know the plan has holes, but I don’t see anyone else coming up with any ideas.  Anyone?”

They fell silent.

“Well then I guess we have a plan.”  Gabriel stood up and threw a fake salute.  “Reporting for duty!  Operation Sneak into Heaven.”

 


	12. Crossing Over

Astral Projection is the safest way to enter the spirit world.  The concept is simple; enable a mediating consciousness to unwind from its corporal body, often described as the unweaving of a thread.  The spell is easy for someone familiar with the procedure but with a novice psychic, who trained a mere forty minutes, it was a significant risk.

Floating on the marble ground beside his body, he came to appreciate the skill of Charlie Bradbury.  His eyes glanced from his successfully stilled vessel to where she sat, eyes clamped in meditation.  The spell required a fully quieted mind before she could untangle Gabriel’s soul from his vessel. 

Drifting to his side, Dean followed his gaze to the young woman.  “She’s barely breaking a sweat.”

Castiel nodded.  “She does seem fairly adept, for never revealing supernatural abilities before now.”

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugged.  “Some of the stuff I’ve seen her do with a computer could be called magical.  She’s hacked the unhackable.” 

Castiel watched the geek turned hunter turned psychic start the process of removing Gabriel’s soul from his body.  Still immersed in her concentration, she twisted to the former archangel, placed her hands on his shoulders and gripped them hard.  Immediately she started to chant, “ _Animum vult decipi, ergo decipiatur. Vis, vis, vis_.”

Over and over she repeated the spell.  Her voice starting soft, merely a whisper against the marble walls but soon it was bellowing throughout the Bunker.  _“Animum vult decipi, ergo decipiatur. Vis, vis, vis.”_

Castiel noticed that Gabriel’s spell required a longer length of time than his or Dean’s and he felt his brow furrow into a human emotion he recognized, concern.  Dean seemed to be oblivious to his brother’s progress to the spirit world.  Not a single worry crossed his face despite Charlie’s heavy breathing and reddening face.  He hoped they were not overwhelming the girl with continuous spellwork. 

An idle Dean croseed over to his body and began a thorough observation of his own face, failing to notice Castiel’s apprehensions.  “Damn, I’ve aged a lot since the last time I took a trip across the Dark Side of the Moon.”

When Castiel responded with silence, Dean finally turned and read his face effortlessly.  He quickly walked back over to stand with Castiel and watch over brother as they had done when it was Sam unconscious in the clinic.  “I’m sure it’s just taking longer because his former archangel status and because Charlie’s probably exhausted.  It’ll be fine.”

He nodded, trying to find assurance in Dean’s words but his eyes still flashing worriedly between Charlie and Gabriel until Dean slid their hands together and grounded him.  Nothing changed for a handful of tense minutes but Castiel let Dean help him find balance in his panic.

Then, a popping sound and Charlie let out a large, relieved, breath.  Next to them, Gabriel’s soul slid from its vessel with a sarcastic smirk.  He surveyed the two who only seconds ago were anxiously awaited his crossover, hands laced together, and a Cheshire grin erupted on his face.  “ _De-an and Cas-sie sitting in a tree k-i-s-s_ ….” 

“Leave it to the former Trickster to walk out of his own skin goading.”  Dean interrupted irritably but left their hands intact.

            Gabriel opened his mouth with a response and Dean’s fists tightened with anger and Castiel had to remove his palm forcibly after realizing it was time to step in and remind them of the situation.  He pulled away from Dean and walked between them, trying to place a hand on each their chests but instead floating into their transparent torsos. 

Right, Ghosts.  Acclimate.   

“We must be in the spirit world until the Prophet informs our contacts to open the Axis Mundi to human heaven.  We need to increase our strength and telekinesis.”

“I know that it’s time for the kumbaya, learning-something-new montage,” Gabriel clipped.  “But do you honestly expect me to forget that I just saw you two holding hands like little school girls?” 

Castiel’s eyes flicked quickly to Dean’s profile.  He wondered what this would be like, an acknowledgment of their changed relationship by someone other than Sam, who was always going to support Dean.  Everyone had noticed that he gave his room away to Anna but with their nonexistent sleep patterns, they could easily rationalize it as platonic. 

No, this was a direct public display and, of course, it had to be Gabriel. The one person in their group that could infuriate Dean by sight alone.  Should he pull away?  But Dean always was the impossible variable to factor into his assumptions. 

His eye caught Castiel’s with a small smile that beckoned him across the room.  He followed because he was curious and unsure but sure enough to know he would follow that smile anywhere.  When he pulled up next to Dean, the hunter grabbed his hand.  “Oh, you mean this?” Green eyes fixed on him and winked before Dean squared his shoulders towards Gabriel with a larger, mischievous smile.  “Or this?”  

Dean jolted Castiel forward as he pulled them into a dramatic kiss, forcing Cas’ back to arch from the onslaught.  Their heads inches from the floor.  Just as fast, he pulled them upright and shifted to face Gabriel again, only this time Castiel knew he must be flushed red, breath refusing to settle.  Dean turned serious, “You got a problem with it?”

A laugh exploded out of Gabriel.  “If you think _anyone_ is going to have a problem with this, you’ve been watching the wrong show.”

This was not the first time he heard the reference.  Once it came from Dean’s own mouth after he chastised him about drinking during a mission.  He turned to Dean because he was confused and it was Dean’s place to help him understand.  He was already looking towards Castiel with twinkling eyes and an amused smile.  “If our lives were television, would the audience expect us to get together?  It’s just an expression, Cas.”

“So wait,” Gabriel cut in. “I have to sit here and watch you guys make kissy eyes to each other for how long exactly?”

“Oh shut it.”  Dean replied. 

Nevertheless, Gabriel’s words must have reminded Dean that they had limited time.  He took his warmth and affection with him as he walked across the room to start testing his interaction with the physical world.  Except when he reached the other side of the room he whirled around with such enthusiasm it warmed Castiel again, like the sun from afar.  “Here Cas, try and catch this!”

…

Within four hours, they formed a connection.  The Prophet was halfway through lunch when he seized into a fit and collapsed face front into his plate.  With sight provided by the spirit world, Castiel watched the vision cover the Prophet with images from this side of the veil.  A bar, Bobby, Metatron.  It became a river of gray melding together. 

The moment it touched the boy, he absorbed every of inch leaving only a mass of vision sitting at the library table.  This is where the plan became, what Dean liked to refer to as, ‘foggy’. 

Despite witnessing the vision interact with the Prophet, the events inside were as much a mystery to the others in their spirit forms as it had been when they were human.  It was up to Kevin to crossover, inform Ash that the three of them found a plausible way into heaven…that is if he could forge them a gate.  

They fell into silence on both sides of the veil and Castiel knew he could not be the only one with a head full of doubt.  

It was difficult to discern the small tendril of vision as it spun off the mass occupying the Prophet’s seat and inch closer to Anna, he could see that it was a sliver of the Roadhouse reaching out to her.

Anna seemed indifferent, mildly doodling on a scrap sheet of paper left over from their earlier research.  When the wisp of gray curled around her forearm, her pencil dropped to the table.

“What is it?”  Charlie questioned hesitantly, unable to see the visions surrounding Kevin and, now, Anna.

Despite the small size of the vision, it curled its way around Anna’s neck and continued its climb towards her eyes.  To the other side, she only looked frozen with closed eyes.  When the tendril reached her sockets, it seeped into them and absorbed into her mind.

“Anna!”  Castiel was unable to suppress his worried shout, even though he knew there was not anything he could do from beyond the veil.

“It will be okay, baby bro.”  Gabriel stated softly, but Cas could hear the waiver of uncertainty.  He had never seen anything like this.

Dean walked up to Anna, hovering behind her to investigate the tendril that linked around her and Kevin, connecting them.  On the other side of the veil, Charlie began to panic.  From her perspective, she was alone, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of her comrades.  “Anna!  Kevin!  Wake up!”

Dean walked hastily to the table, trying to latch his hand around the pencil possibly to write a warning but they spent the past few hours working on telekinesis with little success.  “Come on you lousy piece of –” Just as his hand solidified around the pencil with enough pressure to grasp it, Anna’s eyes opened and she gazed emptily into the center of the room. 

“We have all gathered in the establishment known as the Roadhouse.  I have successfully connected to the Prophet, Sam Winchester and two deceased humans.”  She stopped abruptly, her melodious voice cutting off.  After a moment, her lips pursed and when she continued, her tone cold.  “They wish to be named – Ash and Bobby.”

“Hi…”  Charlie began when Anna paused for a long beat, only to be cut off by the echoing prophetic voice.

“The Prophet and I explained our hypothesis and are keen to form a link to the Axis Mundi and test the theory.  He wanted me to inform you that he will have to make an individual portal for each of you.”

Dean stepped forward.  “Why?  We’re all trying to get to the same place, splitting us up will just make things more difficult.”

For the first time since the connection began, Anna’s eyes reeled alive and circled until they found Dean, if they could see Dean.  “Souls travel this journey alone.”

“Unbreakable rule.”  Gabriel muttered.

“In a moment, the portals will open.  You will enter your Axis Mundi to heaven.”

“How will we know which is ours?”  Dean asked.

“This is what the Prophet was describing,” Castiel supplied him.  “All the tunnels and archways, the long hallways and winding paths of asphalt.”

Dean remembered.  “Each person sees it differently.” 

Anna studied Dean and then Castiel and continued hesitantly.  “We do not know if the trip is reversible but if the plan ultimately succeeds and Metatron is forced to open the Host, there will be mechanisms to return you to humanity.  If you wish...” 

“We’re too far into this mess to turn back now.”  Dean declared tersely.  “What’s the best way to get Ash to notice us?  It took him a while to find Sammy and me the last time we were up there…or the last time I remember.”

As a trained soldier, Castiel reprimanded himself for failing to ask such a logical question but he could not move past the fact that Dean so quickly recovered from, they may not return from this mission. 

Anna quieted, transferring Dean’s question through the link.  Castiel would not think of all the possible ways this plan could turn sour, instead he focused on Charlie and aimlessly wondered what this must look like from her perspective, watching Anna reply to unheard questions.  It ineffectively distracted him until she returned.

“He says to just think of him and Bobby and the Roadhouse.  The louder the thoughts, the quicker he can, and I quote, ‘pluck you out of your heaven’.”

“So I get to the legendary human heaven and I have to fill my head with old ex-Hunters?”  Gabriel lamented.  A weak attempt to throw levity into this risky plan that keeps getting riskier.

Before anyone could respond, three small spirals formed in the area behind them, placing the three spirits between Anna and the Axis Mundi.  “Remember to pay attention.  Try not to get lost in the memories.”

The spirals grew rapidly until there were three distinct conduits.  Gabriel moved to the far one and shoved his head into the forming mass t inspecting his portal.  He emerged giddy with excitement.  “Mines a slide!”  He took one last look at the pair before falling back first.  “See you on the other slide.”

Castiel walked over to the center portal, the wind of the connection causing papers to rush off shelves, hair to whip across foreheads.  He looked over at Dean, suddenly so worried that this would be his last chance to see the man, that this would be the true end.  He wanted to reach out but they were here, at the precipice of the Axis Mundi and there was no time for weakness. 

If this was their last moment, he wanted to see Dean smile.  He remembered his joke from that bar not so long ago, when they were looking for Cupid to start this whole mess.  “E.D goes home.”

Dean’s reaction is nothing short of a beam, a bright smile that burns away all the doubt and worry and catches Castiel’s breath.  “It’s E.T., Cas.”

“Yes, yes.  That was it, E.T. goes home.”  He tries again, taking a step closer to the portal and watching Dean do the same.

They take the last step together and Castiel hears through the turbulence of their portals, “Except you’re not going alone this time.” 

….

He was alone.  

Alone and flying. 

A channel of wind wheeling him up through the sky, higher, higher and he was free in a way that burned, yearning in his memory. 

The channel released him and he was in charge of his course.  From high above the thermosphere, he dove through the surges and let it whip his face into a smile.  He twirled a corkscrew; hit a 180-degree dissent. 

He stretched his wings and rejoiced in the sky.  Dividing his feathers, he let the feel of his wingspan cupping the air center his soul before using it to propel him forward, faster.  

A gnawing sensation tickled to life at the base of his spine.  It was pulling him up and up and up, and he knew his own heaven waiting but he refused to give up the sensation of flight.  His lost sense.

One is rarely a victor in a battle against heaven.  The gnawing transformed into an itch and soon into a desire to follow the wind tunnel dancing just in his reach.  He spun a few more times in the waves of space and decided that as a last flight, it was perfect.  

So he pushed forward and let the gust of his Axis Mundi take him to heaven.


	13. Two Lost Souls Swimming in a Fish Bowl

The sound of the Impala’s door closing couldn't even silence the songbirds on this brilliant blue day.  A wave of crisp fall air, not yet cold enough to chill skin, blew the fallen leaves to life around Dean’s feet as he leaned against his warm Baby. 

He stared ahead at what had persuaded him off the highway, where he should be frantically thinking thoughts of Ash and Bobby.  He knew it was dangerous to get distracted but first there was the long hilly asphalt, then the beautiful colors of autumn and now _this_ , and something about it _itched,_ making it hard for Dean to focus.

Maybe it was because it was afternoons like these that reminded Dean why Earth and humanity were worth saving.  Road to himself and foot revving on the pedal, his baby shooting down another breezy hill.  He had it all to himself, _Traveling Riverside Blues_ trailing in his wake.  It excused him, dammit. Of course he was having a hard time thinking of the greasy Roadhouse. 

But he still tried.

That was, until he drove over the last tall hill and a mountainside panorama burst into view.  A valley of vibrant red and yellow trees spanned almost to the horizon, where another mountainside awaited in a purple haze.  At his vantage point, two long lines split across the foliage, one was his grey valley road and the other the dark blue of a wide river. 

From the base of the hill, there was nothing but long flat road for miles and Zeppelin turned to Pink Floyd.  _Wish You Were Here_ crooned through his speakers and he lost himself in the thumping rhythm of his hands against the wheel, when a yellowish mirage appeared at the end of the road in the break between trees.  

Dean squinted as the mirage grew.  It looked like the road turned up ahead, where it met with the river.  There was something familiar though, a prickle in his spine.  He wondered if he had seen these trees before.

The yellow formed shapes, the break in the trees grew wider and soon the smell of pine and freshwater wafted into the car.  Dean couldn’t remember when he decided not to follow the curve of the road as it continued, but his wheels crunched over the shoulder until he stopped mere meters from a wooden pier. 

The light sound of water breaking against the shore drew his feet forward, away from the Impala, the Road, and the nagging sensation that there was something important he should be doing.  But the sensation warred with the compulsion to move forward.  It was the pier from his dreams; chair perched at the end and fishing pole waiting.

It wouldn’t hurt to sit and relax for just a few minutes, the road would be there.

As soon as the wood bent under his step, the annoying itch settled into a pool of deep contentment and it seemed only natural to pick up the rod, string a piece of bait onto the hook and plop down in the chair.  After a successful release of the line, with skill that would never match his own, he closed his eyes, breathed in the hint of murky river life, and smiled when he heard the flutter of Cas appearing. 

“I’m guessing you’re not here to tell me some important secret this time.” 

He kept his focus on the waves but watched a responding curve of Cas’ smile as he placed his familiar palm on Dean’s shoulder.  “And you are not dreaming this time, either.”

Dean was aware they were in his old dream, the one he used to cling to when it appeared, blissfully, between nights filled with hell’s horrors.  But after Cas’ guest appearance he never returned, maybe because after this encounter he realized not even his dreams were private.  Not because of Cas, but because there was something out there forcing Castiel, the formidable soldier, to flee.

“At the time,” Castiel continued, rough voice breaking through falling leaves, “I was so torn between what was right – no, even coming to understand the concept of right over duty.  Those were always your words, Dean.  Your ability to fight rooted in what you thought was ‘ _right_ ’.  Who was I to understand?  When before the only option available to me was the one ordered down the chain?”

Dean remembered those times, when the other angels were after him for his big destiny that involved murdering his own brother.  When he was frightened he’d succumb to an archangel.  When he needed to teach Cas that some things were worth fighting for.

“I first saw you sitting in this dream, face smooth of any worry, and I did not wish to end your peace.  I remember the hesitancy underlining my urgency to speak with you.  I waited a moment before materializing, wanting to give you as much time as I could.” 

The warmth of Cas’ hand, absentmindedly combing through his hair, soothed him back into the calm and he wished more than anything that they could share this moment, hold onto the peace a moment longer.  

Because they didn’t get moments like these.

Immediately another rod landed against another chair and the deck expanded to allow another to sit. Dean looked up at Cas, prepared to welcome him to the taxing life of a dockside fisherman, but his breath caught at the sight before him.  Dark head framed in bright yellow sunshine and autumn leaves, eyes already on him shining with happiness.

His stomach clenched with a surprising grip.  Dean didn’t even try to recover, he just looked dazedly and let his words run together.  “Guess now you can join me.”

Cas settled on the metal chair somewhat cautiously, raising the fishing rod with an amused lift of his dark eyebrow.  Dean watched him fiddle with the tackle box, and chuckled when Cas couldn’t catch a hold of the bait. 

Soon though, with a little help from Dean, they were both sitting back in their metal chairs with lines in the water and nothing but the sounds of water breaking against the dock to interrupt them.

Until the scene started to disappear.  The river around them faded into darkness as the moon chased away the sun.  Their metal chairs lowered them and morphed into the front seat of the Impala. 

Right away and deep in his bones, Dean knew when they were. 

The rain streamed down the windows and next to him, where there should’ve been an empty seat, sat Cas.  The memory soured any peace he had found in their fall afternoon.  His shoulders tensed, fingers tightened on the wheel and Dean felt old emotions scratch at scabbed wounds.  Because he had gotten what he asked for when they locked Lucifer in the Cage with Sam and Adam.  No Paradise or Hell, no end to humanity or fulfilled destiny, just more of the same.  Freedom, and a road that always clawed ahead.

“I can feel your anger from here.” Castiel’s words tore through the simmering resentment.  He was here this time, not fluttering away with barely a word.

“Aren’t you supposed to be turning high-tail to heaven right about now?  What were calling yourself those days?”  Dean asked through clenched teeth, “Oh right, Sheriff of Heaven.”

He could feel Cas’ sharp gaze against the side of his face but refused to meet his eye.  After a moment Castiel shifted to face his window, “Returning to heaven after we trapped Michael and Lucifer, it was the right thing to do Dean.  I learned that from you.”

Dean snorted.  Of course Cas had.  Dean knew now as he knew then, his friend was correct.  Castiel had a home and a family and he had to tidy house. But it didn’t make it any easier for Dean, because he was still alone.

“You know… it was not my intention to leave you for such a long period of time,” Cas mused beside him as if he could read Dean’s thoughts.  “I meant to leave Sam with you and return to Heaven and asses but…”

“Yea, I had front row tickets to the rest of that show.”

“I wanted to stay.”  Cas uttered the words with such a soft fierceness that Dean almost missed them.  He didn’t, though, and with them a small pain inside of Dean that persisted through the years, closed.  Even after the mission was over, the goal completed, apocalypse averted, his friend wanted to be by his side.  If Dean was true with himself, that was the answer he was hoping for when he first asked Cas what he was going to do now that they made it through the war.  Hearing it now, it was enough.  

Dean reached across the seat to grab his hand, drawing blue eyes from the streams of rain.  “There was no way you could’ve stayed then, Cas.  I know….  But you can stay now.”

The car falls away, they are standing in an empty parking lot, rain cleared overhead.  In front of them is a large hospital.

He couldn’t place it at first.  Usually they avoided scenes in front of the authorities but that doesn’t mean they haven’t seen their fair share of hospitals.  Next to him, Cas obviously remembered the place instantly and from the looks of it, he wasn’t too happy with the scene.  He took a few stumbling steps backwards and Dean had to catch his arm.  “When is this Cas?”

“It’s where I remember.”  At Dean’s blank stare, Cas’ eyes shifted and he hunched forward under his grasp.  When he spoke his voice rasped.  “Emmanuel.”

Dean looked around and now recognized where he, Meg and Emmanuel planned, the entryway where Cas remembered.  “Why are we here?” 

“The same reason we were at the lake, the Impala...”

The fading memories, sliding in and out of the turning points in their story, it all made sense.  Dean remembered their mission.  “This is heaven. We’re looking for the others.”

“I suppose we are not doing a very adequate job.” 

 “I’d go with a solid, no.”  Dean laughed but stopped short when he saw the direction of Cas’ blank stare up the hill, where he had tried to escape from Dean and Meg years ago.

“How could you even…?  You believed in me, Dean.  Even then, after failing you, after hurting Sam –”

“I don’t need the refresher Cas.”  Dean cut in.  He always knew he forgave too quickly when it came to family and by then, that’s what Cas had become.  You cut the ones you love some slack and carry part of the weight for them. 

Cas’ eyes grew distant and his face contorted with self-disgust.  “You tried to defend me, my actions, after I slaughtered thousands.”

Dean caught him before he turned away, “Hey.  Don’t.  Don’t fall down this hole again.”  He held Cas through a couple calming yet jagged breaths.

After a moment, the man pushed Dean’s arm off.  He squared his shoulders into a stance that spoke of perseverance. 

“We fixed this.”  Cas said it with such certainty and pride; it was hard to believe he once fought without passion, only orders. 

“We did.”  Dean agreed, basking in Cas’ new appreciation of their victories but even victories came with some embarrassing setbacks, which Dean was happy to remind him of too.  “I mean, you had to strap the devil to your brain and we pretty much had to go to Purgatory and back, but yea, we fixed this.  It also did take you a while to get passed the bees and ‘Sorry’ stages, to man up.”

Cas pinned him with a crooked smile.  “What was it? ‘ _No one cares that you’re broken.  Clean up your mess._ ’”

Dean walked forward, head shaking.  He stopped in front of Cas, and reached out to bring the other man to his chest.  “Nope, I think it was, ‘ _I'd rather have you, cursed or not._ ’”

Outside the close comfort of their hug, Dean sensed the scene around them shifting.  A new memory was lining up, a world that looked eerily similar to the forest of purgatory. 

As the trees around them settled, a force shook the area, causing them to hold on closer for balance.  “What was that?”  Dean asked as another jolt forced them to the side.

Cas pulled back from Dean, around them streaks of trees and parking lot meshed together, a strip of memory paused in transition.  “It feels as if this heaven is shaking apart.”

Dean swallowed.  “Like an earthquake?” 

“I would consider it more of a heaven fissure, but the concept’s the same.”

Whatever he wanted to call it, it didn’t sound good.  “What’s causing it?”

Cas shook his head.  “I haven’t the faintest idea.” 

“It’s probably Bobby and Ash, right?”  Dean asked.  “I’ve been trying to think of them more, since we entered this latest memory.”

“As have I.  This could be part of Ash’s procedure for removal.”

But, no, that didn’t add up because the last time he was in heaven, he barely noticed Ash enter.  He told this to Cas, who reminded Dean, “It could be Metatron.”

“Could be.  We can’t do shit about it stuck in our own heads though.”

“True.”  Cas frowned, considering.  “But I am glad we ended up together.  It is very rare that two souls find themselves in the same heaven.”

Dean turned away with a flush.  “So I’ve heard.”

“Their usually soul – ”

“Hey guys!”  Sam’s voice interrupted them, yelling from the direction of a dense part of the purgatory memory and Dean started to it.  He noticed that Cas didn’t immediately follow and turned to see him looking over the blurred fragments of their memories.  He was surprised that his voiced came out a low whisper when he asked, “We would have continued going through them forever, huh?”  

“Each one.” Cas confirmed, equally as quieted.  “We would have been able to play them countless times, with many different outcomes.  I’m sure eventually we would come to spend time in the most pleasing fictions of our own memories.”

“Hey.”  He pulled Cas’ hand towards the direction of Sam’s voice.  “I’m up for making some more fresh ones before returning to the reruns.  What do you say?”

Cas eased around from the memory, eyes shining with new purpose.  “Of course, Dean.  After all, we got another mess to fix.”

…

It was easy to find Sam among the black and white forest of purgatory because, well, he was still mostly blue.

“So no divine cure yet, huh?”  Was the first thing Dean asked when he saw his brother before promptly pulling him into a tight hug.  “Good to see you anyway.”

“Good that I finally found you, you mean.”  His brother said, anxiously.  “Gabriel’s been at the Roadhouse long enough to drive me insane.  Apparently you’re heaven provided more of a distraction than that guy’s harem of candy and women.”

Red flared on Dean’s face but Cas just nodded slowly to himself.  “Yes, it was much more riveting than that.”

Sam shook his head.  “I have absolutely no desire to know.  _Especially_ since you were tied together soul mate style.”  Castiel preened and Dean smiled in spite of himself.  Sam just barreled through, “Enough of this lovesick story, there’s a war going on!  Haven’t you been feeling the hits?”

“Those jolts were punches?”  Dean asked, suddenly alert.

“Metatron’s come a’knocking.  Ash opened the portal to angel heaven a little too early and when he tried to back away, Metatron started his attack.  It seems like he’s been waiting for one since he expelled everyone from heaven because he’s gathered up a whole armory.”

“Crap,” Dean swore, “Do our puny human powers even seem to be standing a chance?”

Sam nodded.  “Seems Gabriel’s able to channel some ghost strength and Kevin and Anna can be a boost through some vision coding by Ash.  We were waiting until you two turned up to take the battle to Metatron’s domain.  Gabriel and Anna are hoping that their Grace will return when they enter heaven.”

“That could reverse the spell for them.” Cas nodded.

The ‘for them’ rang in Dean’s ears.  “We’ll get that bastard to give you your Grace back, man.”

“First we need to enter the freaking battle.”  Sam cried.  “Come on!”  He ushered them forward, to where a door appeared between two large tree trunks but Dean noticed that as soon as they were within arm’s reach of the door, his brother paused. 

Dean felt a sinking in his stomach.  “What is it?”

“It’s nothing really.”  Sam worried his lip.  “Just, you guys have been gone for a while now, almost 30 hours and we were able to gather some more forces in the meantime.”

Cas stepped forward.  “Is it more of my brethren?”

Sam nodded.  “Once Ash discovered through Gabriel and Anna more angel allies, they returned Kevin to the Bunker to help Charlie with the crossover spell for anyone close by.  We were able to get a few from you garrison through to the Roadhouse.”

“Back up!  Great!”  Dean exclaimed but Sam still looked cautious, “Not so great?”

“Just…some of them aren’t too happy with Cas.  So…warning.”

Not so happy with Cas?  Dean felt anger swell and settle into clenched fists.  “We don’t have time for anyone’s petty drama.  We only have time to fix it, so they can just shove it up their asses.”

Sam threw up his hands, “Hey, just the messenger.” But Dean just swung open the door and walked on through, ready to put anyone who doubted Castiel in their place and fired up to take on Metatron.

 


	14. Home Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short update to wish you all a Happy Halloween!

Castiel determined that the best course of action was focusing on his curling hands.  He tried to let the chatter of Dean and the other humans distract him.  Wondering briefly if he should remove Sam from that identifier, but whatever he was, their conversation lulled him into a calm seclusion apart from the others in the room.

Or it did when he focused harder than he had too since trying to break free from Naomi’s control.  In actuality, Castiel could feel deep within his skin each prickling glance the new members continued to sweep his way. 

These two; it was hard to look at them without picturing his own hand sliding an Angel Blade through the soft skin of their vessels.  The same vessels currently sitting in front of him, constructed from images leftover by the Host.  His comrades for centuries, members of the same garrison and Castiel, the sole reason they entered in the abyss of afterlife.  Rachel and Balthazar.

“I called for them.”  Anna spoke softly, answering his unasked question.  “They were close to Kansas and we were able to get them through in the same fashion as you and Gabriel.”  Her low voice evaded the planning Winchesters. 

“I just don’t get why you had to jump the gun, Ash.”  He could hear Dean’s teeth grinding next to him.  “With more time we could’ve gotten extra reinforcements.” 

Bobby shuffled in his stool across from them, “It’s wasn’t intentional, you idjit. We were testing out the link to the other side.”

“What the heck does that even mean?”  Dean asked.

Gabriel bounced with glee, which Castiel easily translated as his ‘I have more information than a Winchester’ dance.  “Maybe if you and Cas weren’t off honeymooning, you’d be more in the loop.”

Dean tensed and Castiel shot a glare towards Gabriel before answering the man’s question.  “To enter the other regions of Heaven, one must command the elemental structure of their surroundings.  Unlike a road or doorway, which naturally transitions in a set location to another area, the creature crossing must create the walkway into angel heaven.  It's a difficult process but it can occur anywhere, we are fortunate in that regard.  The ability to manipulate the structure comes naturally for angels –”

“We’re Daddy’s first born, after all.”  Balthazar teased darkly, eye cutting towards Dean and Castiel.  “It’s not like hoping on Route 66 and counting down the hours till you arrive, you monkeys need to dig through each inch.”  

“I’d watch who you call what now, Balthazar.”  Anna warned with a raised red eyebrow.  “We cannot walk through any more than they can.”

“But we are meant too!”  The cracking voice of Castiel’s former lieutenant whipped across his control and crippled his practiced calm.  Her dark brown eyes sparkled with anger and for a moment, the true strength of Rachel shinned through as if she never fell.  “This is your fault Castiel.”

“He was tricked.”  Sam interrupted before Dean could unclench his jaw.  “He didn’t mean to cause any of this.  If anything he’s more a victim than any of us.”

“Ha!”  Rachel shouted the ugly sound, propelling her out of her stool.  “If you had never sided with the King of Hell, none of this would’ve come to pass.  We put our faith in you and you gorged on souls and released the evils of purgatory!  You are the cause of the warring factions in Heaven.  You are the reason Metatron’s plan to close the gates of Heaven even proved necessary, you –”

Castiel flinched under each of his former subordinate’s words but he no longer wished to hide from his past.  Instead, he sat there and allowed each one to cut another wound in his soul.  It went on as the room sat frozen.  Deans hand now clenched on his thigh, Sam and Anna jaws dropped, Gabriel stopped mid-tilt on his stool, the others staring.  All stunned as this once quiet woman exploded in anger.

Gabriel recovered first and the thump of his stool against the wooden floor may not have silenced her but the growl from deep in his throat was sure too.  “Who are we to judge our brother’s freewill, sister?”

His brother’s words surprised Castiel, and he spared a glimpse from his hands to Gabriel’s eyes.  The understanding in them sent a shiver down his spine. 

He expected this from Dean, the forthright man that defended him first and asked questions later.  Maybe it meant something different coming from his brother, another casualty of freewill. 

“Talk to me again after you die by his hand.”  Balthazar reminded with a snarl.

“I’m pretty sure his hand is also the reason you’re sitting here and not swimming next to me in the cerebral Host of heaven.”  Gabriel pointed out with a taunting curve of his smile.

“Yea,” Dean added, finally recovering his voice, “he practically saved your asses from _that_ torture.” 

Gabriel was not going to take that slight against him without a response and Castiel knew it was time to step in, end this argument because he was the cause of it. 

“I cannot change the past,” he aimed the words at his hands but they reverberated around the empty bar anyway.  Still, he knew that he had to meet each eye as he continued.  He was happy Dean sat next to him, bleeding courage into him and he paused, steadying his voice.  “I cannot ask forgiveness, from you two especially.  My hands are tainted red with the blood of my own garrison and it is unforgivable.  All I can offer is this opportunity to gain back what I took from you.”

Only the tunes from the old jukebox trickled across the table, each member silenced by Castiel’s speech.  In the years to come, every one of them would speak of his certainty, his faith, and his firm belief that they would restore heaven.

At present, Bobby interjected with a thump of his fist on his table. 

“Look, every family has its big bag of issues, okay?  We don’t have time for this.” Ash was nodding eagerly next to the seasoned hunter.  “What we have a Prophet, three human spirits, four former angels, a former archangel and whatever the hell Sam is right now.  Metatron is beating louder at the door Ash carved than any fat lady singing, so it’s time to put up or shut up.”

Bobby Singer, a magnificent human and true leader, could group these past allies and enemies together because he saw beyond the anger of their timeworn resentment. 

Bobby had been working as a scout while Ash manipulated the avenues between heavens and he knew Metatron’s routine. He reported it as such: the Word spent a few hours resting in the vast green and purple fields of the Bliss Grasslands, and then he moved to watch the happenings of earth through the Pool between Planes.  His long hours spying on earth generally drove the sole angel to paranoia and he would then go check his weapon stocks.

The plan was to break into two teams and hope fervently that the angels will ‘juice up’ as soon as they set foot in their domain.  A term Dean threw on the table that was quickly gaining popularity. 

With one team aimed at the armory and the other at the Pool between Planes, they would trap Metatron and then commandeer his backup.  Hopefully, it would be enough to persuade him to release heaven’s Grace back to the angels.

…

Castiel lingered, the last to walk through the doorway Ash meticulously carved out.  His team comprised of Bobby, Gabriel, Sam and Dean, standing just beyond the barrier between the Roadhouse and the Pools. 

Dean’s hand outstretched, waiting for him to place his own palm into it – back to heaven.  But he hesitated at the barrier, with the jubilant sounds of Gabriel’s laughter drifting back, hitting his ears like a victory and curse at once.  Through the power of heaven, Gabriel’s Grace returned.  More than that, he is alive.

So Castiel takes tentative steps forward, Dean’s hand still shaking ahead to hurry him along but he cannot seem to find his strength.  Here, on the brink of it all, the horrific acts of his past are mending, to a certain extent.  Those died by his hand will rejuvenate if – no, when – they succeed.

But what of him?

He holds his breath as he clasps his hand in Deans, letting the worried hunter’s eyes pull him home.  A human saying he idly remembers reverberates in his mind now, flooding it with darkness: “You can never go home again.”  Not really. 

His greatest fear recognized only when he steps through the walkway and…nothing. 

There is no shining light, no returned strength, no connection with his brethren, only the sound of despair ripping from the back of his throat. 

Then Dean’s arm pulling him towards his strong chest, hand fisted in the back of his jet-black hair and soft mouth whispering promises in his ear.  They would get his Grace back from Metatron.  Certainty rang from his guarantee, a confidence Castiel could not share because he was too raw from unfulfilled hope.  He takes a deep breath, allowing the smell from deep within Dean’s plaid button-down to balance him.

Time is not on their side and mourning something already lost will only delay their plan, so he straightens.  Concerned green eyes search his and he returns a tilted smile, a small shake of his head, before pushing back from the safety and warmth of Dean’s arms.  Maybe the saying exists because sometimes you find a new home.

When he steps back, he sees the others concern as well.  Sam’s sympathetic eyes, Gabriel reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, obviously aware that he remains Graceless.  He shakes it all off and lets the first shine of angelic heaven spill across his face, smiles into the warmth.

He is not powerless, he is human after all. 

“Let’s do this.”


	15. Family

Dean remembers a time when Castiel, God’s Warrior, threatened to throw him back onto the rack of hell, a time when he crumbled the wall of his brother’s sanity. He remembers Emmanuel and the jaded man of a future that never came to pass. Every time, they found each other. Every time, they fixed it.

Now in the borders of Heaven, attempting to corner Metatron, Dean’s soul seethed with a new purpose.

The slightly smaller frame under his arm didn’t need to be propped up as they waited for the other groups signal, unable to attack until they secured the armory, but Dean couldn't help himself. Seeing over and over again the realization cross Castiel's face after his Grace had not returned.

From the curses Gabriel keeps emitting in response to his angel-network, it seems Metatron keeps attacking the other group with all the forces of heaven.

“Couldn’t we do some attacking too?” Dean shouted, wanting them to move forward so he could corner the old geezer bastard and demand he restore his angel’s Grace. The burning need to do something causing his jaw to clench and arm to tighten around Cas. “Or can only the great and powerful Word manipulate the winds around here?”

“We can’t risk it. He may change locations.” Bobby grumbled.

“Our best hope is only to corner him when the other group can gain full control of the armory.” Gabriel reminded, signaling for them to move forward.

Dean noticed that it took no time at all for the archangel to take charge, after his powers returned. He beamed Castiel a gleeful smile, “Can’t wait to take this guy on, test out my strength.”

Dean burned a glare into the space between him and flaunting angel. Gabriel sniffed in response, turning to Castiel. “Oh come on, I’m sure there will be a way to return you to big-boy pants, get you all juiced up again.”

Castiel pushed away from Dean, striding towards the angel, face full of appreciation and affection and not the fury Dean currently felt. No, instead Cas reaches his hand to Gabriel’s face and smiles. “Either way, to know that the powers of heaven can restore the Grace of our brethren, it is enough.”

Gabriel nodded solemnly in response before pulling Cas down to sit beside him on the large stone. Sam tried to catch his attention out of the corner of his eye but Dean huffed him off and turned to survey the Pool.

They waited around a crater, the rim of stone added a useful barrier between themselves and the center of the deep hollow where the Pool glowed a blueish green under heaven’s sun. Metatron nothing more than a GI Joe sized man next to the beautiful Pool between Planes.

He still wore his familiar vessel and Dean yearned to get his fist into the skin of it, force him to make this right.

Cas caught his eye, gesturing him to slouch down against the rim. Dean huffed, too much energy coursing through him as he awaited the fight and the last thing he could to was sit down but he found himself level with blue eyes without even thinking.

“Dean, either way I’m okay. We always knew it was different for me than the others, that I fell before.”

“You can fool me, Cas. I know this means something to you. This is your home.”

Castiel opened his mouth to reply but Gabriel cut in with a hiss. “They’ve reached the armory interior, we need to move. Now!”

Like bandits descending a town the five of them clamored towards the Pool. Metatron’s attacks started immediately, fierce gusts of wind picking up heavy pieces of stone and hurdling them towards the group.

But still, with Gabriel’s ability to fling the rocks away, it didn’t take long to make it to the edge of the Pool and barrel across the thin beach to surround Metatron.

His deceptively old eyes flickered to Gabriel with a tint of fear, seemingly unnerved by the others in the group. Dean, included and he couldn’t be having that. “You’re going to pay for this Metatron.”

A sly smile quirked in response. “Forgive me if I don’t necessarily feel outnumbered.”

Sam snorted. “There may not be as much weaponry on your side as you think, old man.”

“You think I left all my goodies in one place?” Metatron laughed.

“You think we came in here with one lowly archangel?” Sam retorted.

“Hey!” Gabriel shouted indignantly.

“You are looking a wee bit differently now.” Metatron venture as he flicked his wrist, eyes widening when Bobby, Dean and Castiel flew towards the stone hillside and Sam remained standing firmly in the sandy beach.

Metatron broke into insane giggles of glee, almost bending in half. “But Castiel! Poor, little, Castiel. No Grace for you. I took it. The least piece of this beautiful spell.”

“A spell that you’re going to break.” Sam thundered through the taunt.

“Poor little Castiel, never to get his Grace back.” He tilted his head, mad eyes focusing on Castiel as they made their way back to the Pool. “Or maybe he will get it back, but then his Happily Ever After will be gone for good.”

“You’re crazy man!” Gabriel laughed into the silence that followed the rant. “Been up here too long all by yourself.”

Metatron shook his head slowly. “That’s the way this story is written.”

They formed their semi-circle around the angel, backing him towards the Pool. Dean readying his fist for a punch when a roar unlike any he heard before broke from the rim of the crater across the Pool.

Rocks and sand shook before a dark beast crossed between them and the sky, casting them in shadow.

“I told you I had a weapon stashed away around here.”

“Michael’s dragon?!” Gabriel exclaimed. “I thought that we cast him out.”

“We did. His mother is angry about that, it seems.”

“We need backup.” Bobby demanded and Gabriel closed his eyes briefly. In a second Anna and Balthazar entered the fray.

“Take Sam and go get that thing.” Dean yelled towards their new additions once he caught up with the quickly changing chess board. “We’ll take care of Metatron.”

“Will we, Dean?” Metatron brought his hands up, prepared to send him back against hard rock again when Gabriel punched him square in the jaw. The Word staggered back, eyes landing on the archangel and Dean didn’t waste a second, swinging his arm to land a matching hit on his other cheek.

“Yea, we will.”

…

Dust settled on the dragon far quicker than on Metatron and it took the other two angels and one well landing punch on the nose by Sam to have Metatron hunched against the sand.

The Pool between Planes stilled and Dean watched Castiel land on a knee in front of the broken angel. He held his breath as the calm deep voice echoed across the crater, “Reverse it.”

“I…can.” Metatron whispered.

“Good. Let’s snap too it then.” Gabriel demanded.

Metatron pushed himself into sitting position, flinching as the wrist Anna recently broke brushed against the ground. From around his neck he pulled a thin vial, gleaming with the white-blue power of Grace.

Castiel’s Grace.

Dean would like to say a part of him recognized it, remembered its warmth against his arm or its power as it stitched him together time and time again. But the only indicator that this Grace was his angel’s was the way Castiel slumped forward, gasping as he reached for it.

Metatron snatched it from Castiel and Dean was happy to note that not just his foot stepped forward in defense, ready to act.

“Not so fast.” Metatron warned with a bloodied smirk. “His Grace is all Grace.”

“What does that mean you twisted bugger?” Balthazar asked, lashing his arm out and curling his fingers, placing an invisible pressure on Metatron’s hand. The vial slipped from cramped fingers, falling onto the sand in front of Castiel.

“His Grace holds it all together.” Metatron answered. “It absorbed all of theirs, as the final act. Break this vial and all of Heaven’s Grace, all of the angel’s Grace returns to them, and they can return to Heaven.”

“Still not seeing past riddles.” Bobby gruffed. “What does that have to do with Cas?”

Dean stepped forward and offered his hand to Castiel whose eyes were still on the vial. When Dean threaded his hand softly through the strands of his hair, he turned. Blue eyes swimming with tears, shining with fear.

“Since the Grace of all Heaven’s angels absorbed into mine, all of it would follow with me to Earth or…I’d have to remain in Heaven, to keep my Grace.”

Dean stumbled back, hand sliding from hair but before it could slip away entirely Castiel’s hand shot out, sliding into Dean’s and pulling himself up to stand in front of him.

He barely noticed the others shocked expressions but sent Sam a grateful glance when he offered to keep an eye on Metatron with Bobby while the others checked on the armory.

Cas’ hand gripped the vial and Dean’s hand gripped Cas’. “You can’t do this.”

Castiel’s head tilted with the command and with it Dean’s heart broke a little. After everything, this man could still look at Dean with such wondrous fascination. “Of course I can, Dean.”

Dean’s heart raced. He needed to talk him out of this plan but to do so would be to talk him out of Dean. But it was the right thing to do, he couldn’t ask for this. “You’ll be human forever.”

Castiel lifted his other hand to grip the cold pale one, sandwiching Dean’s hand with his own. “I’m sure it won’t be forever. I hear that humans die.” The corner of his lip quirked up, “Except those pesky Winchester boys.”

Dean tried to tear his hand away but Castiel held firm so Dean channeled his argument into his clenched jaw and burning glare. “Don’t make a joke out of this.”

“The only joke here is that you think I’d chose any of this over you.”

Dean barked a laugh, pain seeping in and turning it into a sob. “This is Heaven. This is your home.”

A tug pulled him towards Cas’ and his rough cheek nuzzled against Dean’s, lips ghosting his ear. “But you’re my family.”

And he dropped the vial.

Tendrils of Grace slithered from the broken glass towards Castiel and Dean thought for one sick moment that the Grace would attach and Castiel would be stuck here, anchoring all of Heaven together.

He knew it was the right thing to do, to allow Castiel his home, his powers. They had it good there, for a while, even throughout all their fighting.

This was right. Angels belonged in Heaven and Castiel was an angel.

He couldn’t breath, chest gripping his lungs and if this was going to be it, he better make it a good one.

Turning to Cas, his panic vanished with a single hand slipping into his, turning them away from the Grace and towards the Pool between Planes. They walked forward, tips of their shoes hitting the still water causing ripples to spread. Another step, the ripple hit the opposite end of the shore and they were falling, falling, falling towards the Bunker.

…

**Six Months Later**

“Whoa, Sammy!” Dean yelped in a way he’d totally deny if anyone commented, namely Cas. But what could they expect when his little brother could make a door between realms out of any wall, even the one next to the stove.

“Sorry bro, didn’t mean to scare you.” Sam said through a taunting grin and wink to Cas, who found the whole situation entirely too amusing.

“Yea right.” Dean grumbled. “How did it go?”

“Metatron is officially locked on a small island in the middle of the Caspian Sea.”

“Are we sure that’s safe?” Dean asked, carrying two bowls of chili to the small kitchen table and placing one in front of Cas.

“Well the island is actually a cooling volcanic cliff about 6,000 meters under the sea so…”

“Should be adequate.” Cas agreed through a mouthful of chili.

“I’m not a big fan of ‘should be’.” Dean reminded them.

Sam shrugged. “Gabriel thought it would do just fine, so who am I to argue?”

“How is Gabriel doing these days?” Castiel asked casually.

Dean thought that after a few months of this, of earth and the Bunker and Dean all the time, that there would be a hint of longing in his angel’s tone when they mentioned heaven but it never came.

Cas often chastised him when Dean brought it up. That was fine with Dean since it usually led to pretty stellar ‘You’re so worth it’ sex.

But he still looked for it in these moments.

“They’re managing. Trying to work out an electoral order, or something. I try and stay out of the celestial politics and spend more time in the Roadhouse. Ash and Bobby send their regards.”

“We got to make another astral projection trip over to human-heaven soon, right Cas?”

“If you wish.” The man replied absentmindedly, trying to fish a bean and piece of bacon onto his spoon at the same time.

Sam caught Dean’s eye and let out a mocking gag before chuckling. “Glad to see your obnoxious domestic bill still holding strong.”

“What can I say,” Dean began, watching as Cas bit his lip in frustration then released the soft skin to form a victoriously grin, looking up to Dean, spoonful in hand. “Us humans have it pretty nice these days.”

Sam hummed in response and just like that the alarms started blaring.

Castiel swallowed the bite quickly, scooping up both their dishes despite Dean’s protest that he wasn’t quite finished.

The man turned to him with a glint in his blue eyes and silenced him with a kiss. “Well too bad, we have work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished! I apologize for the long delay between last chapter and this one but I hope its all worth it.  
> The story is mostly unbeta-ed so if you see any annoying mistakes feel free to send me a message. I'd appreciate it and you!  
> After five long months this story finally exists outside my imagination and I thank you for sticking with me through this ride.


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